Sympathy For the Devil
by Net Girl
Summary: Sam discovers an expert in demon deals.  The Winchesters' quest to find the woman and learn the information she possesses causes more trouble than they could have ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

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Rating: M

Summary: Sam discovers an expert in demon deals. The Winchesters' quest to find the woman and learn the information she possesses causes more trouble than they could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Seasons One & Two. Not even a smidgen of spoileration for season Three.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Eric Kripke, Warner Brothers Television Productions, and their many, many well-paid lawyers. I am NOT making any money off this, nor am I trying to infringe on anyone's copyright. Believe that. Any characters you do not recognize belong to me.

Authors' Notes: The **ENTIRETY** of this story was conceived and written **WELL BEFORE** the season three premiere. It's no lie, you can ask my beta readers – Bridget and Amy. Also, since some of this fic was "Kripke'd" in the season premiere, we'll just file it under "Alternate Universe". K? Thanks. ::thumbs up::

Questions, Comments, Suggestions: Send to donnacsoprano76 AT gmail DOT com. All flames are read, laughed at then deleted with extreme prejudice.

-

"O Pitiful shadow cloaked in darkness. Thy actions cause men pain and suffering. Thy hollow soul drowns in thy sins. Wouldst thou like to see what death is like?"

- Enma Ai, _Jigoku Shoujo_.

-

"Sympathy For the Devil"

By Net Girl

"This is stupid, Sam," Dean Winchester said as he stared across the table at his younger brother. "_Really_ stupid."

He glanced around the dive of a restaurant they'd stopped in, wary of the more unsavory patrons. Ever since the incident which ended the yellow-eyed demon's plans a month ago, he'd been more suspicious of strangers and strange places than usual.

"No, it's not," Sam replied, not as concerned about his surroundings as Dean. He pushed the piece of paper across the table to his brother. "I'd call it pretty damn lucky."

After a moment, Dean picked up the scrap of paper with Sam's scribbling across it. His brow furrowed and he looked to Sam again, confused. "_Dr._ Shanti Patil? This isn't a disease, Sam. I can't take a pill and make it go away."

"She's not an M.D."

"Then what's the 'Doctor' for?"

"According to the guy who told me about her, it's a PhD in Theology."

"Theology?" Dean repeated, his expression turning less hopeful when Sam nodded. "You aren't serious? _God?_"

"Makes sense, when you think about it."

"They actually give out degrees in that?" Dean laughed when Sam nodded again. "Man, if I knew you could get a degree in something that didn't exist, I'd have one. Forget school, I'll just give myself a doctorate in Fairies and a masters in Unicorns."

Sam snatched the piece of paper out of his hands. "If you want to laugh off a chance to get out of the deal you made, you're more stupid than I'd originally thought," he shortly muttered.

Dean's smile faded when he saw how upset Sam was. Then he couldn't help but feel bad. Maybe even guilty. Sam'd swore he'd find a way to save him from the deal he'd made with the crossroads demon. A deal which was probably one of the worst anyone in history had ever made. As far as Dean was concerned, it was worth it.

"All right," he said after a pause. "Lemme ask you something. If this chick has answers to getting people out of demon deals, why haven't we heard of her before? Wouldn't somebody like that be a bit popular in our line of work?" When Sam didn't reply, he added, "You think that guy mighta been messin' with your head, Sammy?"

"I called Bobby. I'm not a complete idiot, Dean," Sam said as he picked at the edges of the scrap. "He's heard of her, too."

Dean sat back in his chair, his face blank. "Why the hell didn't he say something earlier?" He'd never forget the reaction Bobby had when he and Sam – a very much not dead Sam - turned up on his doorstep.

"According to him, she's moved around a lot over the years since she's been here," Sam's voice brought Dean out of his thoughts. "He had no clue where to find her, and he didn't want to ... get our hopes up."

"Wait – what do you mean, 'since she's been here'?"

"She's not American. She's English, I think. That's what he'd heard, anyway." He folded the paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. "We have a long drive ahead of us. You ready?"

Dean's gaze dropped to the half-empty glass of beer clutched between his hands. "Did he say if anyone ever managed to get out of a deal with her help?" he quietly asked.

Sam shifted uneasily on the other side of the table. "Well ... not to his knowledge. Doesn't mean it hasn't happened."

Dean's head lifted and he studied Sam. He had that tone in his voice, the one he'd get when he wasn't telling everything he knew. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Sammy?" A weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not right to toy with a dead man walking."

"Do you take anything seriously?" He stood up, adding, "Let's go."

Sighing, Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. We'll go." Once he'd dropped an adequate tip on the table for their waitress, they made their way to the exit. "Where is she again? I didn't really look beyond her name."

"Missouri."

Pausing in the doorway, he looked back to Sam. "You _are_ talkin' about the state, right?"

Sam saw the look on Dean's face and shoved his shoulder. "Go on, smartass. We don't have forever."

As the door closed, one of the patrons watched through the front window as the Winchesters' headed for their car. No one else in the place noticed when – very briefly – the man's eyes clouded over until they were completely black.

-

It was a crossroads not unlike any other found in the back country of Middle America. The absence of any houses or trees for as far as the human eye could see made it an ideal spot for such clandestine meetings. Kneeling down smack in the center of it was the man from the crummy restaurant.

Murmuring in a language few on earth could understand, he used a finger to create a series complicated symbols in the dirt. Soon, his chanting came to a halt. Within a matter of seconds after he'd done so, he raised his head. He was no longer alone here at this crossroads.

"You're very prompt when I summon you these days," he casually commented as he rose to his full height. He looked over his shoulder, smiling. "But then you have an unhealthy attachment to this particular human ... don't you?"

Stepping closer, the female form crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "I'm not interested in what you think about any of this," she replied, voice hard and cold.

The man turned fully to face her, giving her a critical once over as he did. "New body?" He shook his head. "Blonde isn't a good look on you."

"Repugnant redneck is absolutely _perfect_ on you," she evenly replied. Her beautiful human features twisted up in disgust. "How someone like _you_ manages a higher position in hell than me, I'll never know."

His smile turned darker as he approached her. "You should show a little more respect, sweetheart. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be out of hell right now." He took a lock of the silky blonde hair between two fingers. "Such limited power you possess. I may not be as ... attractive as you here but I still have so much more than you. The ability to leave that pit whenever I like, _without_ the help of another, being the first and foremost."

She slapped his hand away. "Not for long, if everything goes the way I've planned, it will all change. I need the Winchester boy's soul in order to be successful." She narrowed her icy blue eyes at the other demon. "Remember why you're even a part of this, and that you're in as much danger as I am should anyone find out."

The grin faded from the human mask the elder demon wore. "You manipulated me into this, bitch."

She smiled sweetly as she placed a hand to his unshaven cheek. "I did ... didn't I?" The amusement vanished when her hand grabbed hold of a his filthy dark hair. "Dean Winchester – you wouldn't have chanced a meeting like this if it weren't important. What _is_ it?"

His teeth gritted as her inhuman strength taxed the pain threshold of his human host. The longer any demon remained inside the same body, the more he became one with it. If he didn't change bodies soon, he'd have to act up and force someone to perform an exorcism on him. That he didn't want. It stung like a bitch.

"It's more than Dean Winchester," he answered, still wincing.

"How so?"

"Shanti Patil." He put a hand to his head as soon as the other demon let go. He chuckled when he saw the expression on her pretty human face. "Oh, yes. So you _do_ remember her?"

Her hands balled into fists as her eyes darkened. "What does _she_ have to do with this?" she hissed.

"Seems as though Sam Winchester found out where she's hidden herself." He inwardly grinned. "When was the last time any of your kind knew that? Six ... seven years ago?" He reveled in the look of pure panic on her face. "Ohio? No one in hell's seen that co-worker of yours since, have they? And ... didn't something happen to all of her contracts?" He pretended to mull it over then snapped his fingers. "They were all broken. Thousands of souls ... released."

The angered crossroads demon seized the elder by the lapels of his human host's jacket and yanked him closer. "If they find her ..."

"As I understand it, she doesn't help hunters."

Her grip tightened. "You don't know these two as well as I do. If they want something from her, they'll get it. Where _is_ she?"

"Missouri." He tilted his head to one side. "Should I go after her, then?"

"No. I can't risk exposure. You'd attract unwanted attention, especially should you encounter ... _them_. I'll have to enlist non-demonic aid." The other demon looked away, thinking. "Missouri. It isn't far from here." She shifted her attention back to the elder. "I'll need _your_ help in order to do so."

He smirked. "Ah, yes. The inability to leave a crossroads, no matter how you're summoned. Unless someone more powerful ... " He pointed to himself. " ... lends you a hand."

"Yes," she muttered. She hated relying on him. Now, this development had her needing his help more than ever. If she expected to get something done. "Whom should I call upon?" She searched her memory for any deals she'd made in Missouri. Preferably with someone whose contract was up soon. Who would work for her without question and do whatever she demanded to properly get her revenge on that English Indian bitch. "Hmm. Yes." She smiled.

"Know someone?"

Ignoring his question, she asked, "Did you get the other thing I wanted?"

His mouth quirked as he looked down on her. "You do realize how much trouble you'll bring upon yourself if they find out you have it?"

"That's what I have you for, to run interference and cover my ass."

He shook his head as he reached inside of his jacket then removed a sizable wadded up white handkerchief. "I went through a lot to steal this – use it wisely." He drew it back towards him before she could get her hands on it. "Careful you don't cut yourself with it."

Scowling, she accepted the bundle from him. "You're certain this will be untraceable? They won't know when it's used?"

He nodded. "In the right hands. Be mindful whom you give it to, though."

Her fingers gently curled around the object as she lifted her head. "Believe me, the idiot I have in mind won't have a clue as to its other ... abilities."

"Ah. Did you want me to follow them any further?"

"No. It's not necessary. But ..." She slightly smiled. "I do want something else from you." She extended a her arm to him, rotating it until the underside of her forearm was exposed. "You know what it is."

"This one will only be temporary. You won't have more than three or four hours," he warned as he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. After a moment, he flicked it open. "Be careful where you go with this, too. Should anyone see it on you ..."

"I'm not a fool," she snapped. She nodded to her extended arm. "Just do it."

The elder demon ran the blade of the knife over his left index finger. Once he was certain it was bleeding enough for what he needed to do, he pocketed the switchblade. Taking her arm firmly with his right hand, he used the left index finger – and its blood – to trace a specific array. Once it was finished, it seemed to burn itself into the white flesh.

"Four hours and it vanishes," he reminded her as he let go of the arm.

"I'll remember."

With a slightly mocking bow, he stepped away from her. "Should you require my services again, you know how to contact me."

"Yes." Her tongue slipped across her lower lip as she gazed at the kerchief clutched in her other hand. When her plan was finished, everything would be different.

_Everything_.

-

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Peculiar, Missouri

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"Julia?" Felton Howard rapped lightly against the closed door of his daughter's bedroom. "Julia, do you want to eat lunch?"

He waited. And waited. No answer.

He stared at the bright unicorn poster which was neatly taped on the door, Julia's name scribbled in sparkly blue marker in an arch over the top of the image itself. As happy as the picture was, it didn't reflect his nine-year-old daughter in the least.

Another knock. "Julia? Are you going to come out today? It's sunny outside. Maybe you'd like to play with one of the girls next door?" He heavily sighed after she still did not answer. "Dammit," he whispered.

"Having trouble?"

Startled, Felton whirled around to find himself face to face with an attractive blonde woman. "Who are you? How'd you get in here?"

"Shhh," she purred as she placed a finger to his lips. "You don't want to upset little Julia, do you?" She smiled.

He leaned against the door, keeping as much distance between him and the woman as he could. Something in her eyes unsettled him. It was ... evil. "I have no idea who you are -"

She clicked her tongue, frowning. "Ooo, I'm hurt, Felton. I can't believe you wouldn't remember _me_ ..." She stepped closer to him, her voice lowering to a whisper as she continued, "After all I've done for you and your precious daughter?"

His eyes widened as he realized whom she _truly_ was. "You ..." he breathed. He slipped away from her and backed down the hallway, his hands up as if to warn her off. "It hasn't been five years yet. I have a few days left. You have no right to be here."

The demon traced her finger over the letters in Julia's name as she appeared disinterested in his panic. "I'm not here to collect on our contract, darling," she softly assured him. Her eyes met his. "In fact, once you've heard my proposition, you'll be ... overjoyed I chose _you_."

His hands lowered. "What proposition?"

She took slow, measured steps towards him. "How would like to be released from your deal? Free to live the rest of your natural life with your little girl?"

He glanced at Julia's door. "Free?"

A smile on her face, she nodded. "No hell, no more worry. Completely ... _free_." She rested a hand on his left cheek and guided him to look her in the eye again. "Are you interested?"

Felton bit his lower lip. The sweat which had beaded on his skin in the last few minutes, began to slip down his face and neck. His throat, though, was terribly dry. He could barely push out his words. "What do you want me to do?"

She brought her lips mere inches away from the young man's left ear. She could feel the heat from his trembling body against her host's. "I want ..." Her hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders. "... you to bring someone to me."

"Then you'll let me out?" he hoarsely whispered. She smelled strange, he'd noticed. Almost like ... sulfur. It turned his stomach.

"Mmm-hmm. Bring her to me and I'll terminate the contract. No strings attached."

"Who do you want?"

"An old friend of mine. One I haven't seen in so very long."

"What are you going to do after I bring her to you?"

Her nails dug into the soft flesh of his neck. She felt him tense and quietly whimper. "Just bring her to me. If you fail, you _will_ regret it."

Felton's eyes closed. He had little choice. If he didn't, Julia would be completely alone in the world before the week was out. "I'll do it," he breathed. As his eyes opened, he was surprised to find himself alone in the hall. He blinked a few times then turned to check behind him.

The demon was gone.

The door to Julia's room opened and a young girl poked her dark-haired head into the hall. She looked up and down it before she focused on her father. "Were you talkin' to someone, Daddy?" she asked.

He weakly smiled. "No. Just myself." She didn't seem convinced, however.

Her gaze lowered and she pointed to his left hand. "What's that?"

Felton noticed a handkerchief wrapped around something about nine inches long clutched in his hand. Attached to it was a piece of paper. As he opened it, he saw a name and address in northern Missouri scrawled upon it along with instructions. Among which were, 'When you have her, go to the nearest crossroads and drive this into the ground. Do not fail me.'

"What is it, Daddy?" Julia asked as she watched him peel back a fold on the kerchief. His blank expression caused her to prompt again, "What is it?"

"Honey, go downstairs."

"But, I -"

"Julia, go!" He inwardly winced at how sharply he'd snapped.

Crestfallen, the girl did as instructed. Before she descended the stairs, she cast one last glance over her shoulder at her father.

As soon as Julia was gone, Felton let the kerchief fall away from the mysterious item. He gazed in wonder at the nine inch pure silver knife, its blade shimmering in the afternoon sunlight which streamed into the hall via Julia's open bedroom door. The strange symbols meant nothing to him but obviously were quite important to the demon.

His gaze shifted from the blade to the name on the sheet of paper: Shanti Patil. A heaviness fell upon him, even more unbearable than the one he'd carried the past five years. He could only imagine what the demon would do to this poor woman, whoever she was. What could _he_ do?

There was no other option.

-

End Chapter One.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

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"You _sure_ you wrote down this chick's address right, Sam?"

Dean leaned forward and peered through the darkness as he searched for anything which might indicate civilization. He'd slowed to 20 MPH as he drove down the single lane dirt road. In the last twenty minutes, he'd seen nothing but trees, trees and more trees.

In the passenger's seat, Sam kept an eye on the other side of the road. He knew he'd written down everything the man told him correctly, so where was this woman's house? Pretty soon, they'd be in Illinois. If they weren't already.

"Anything on your side?" Dean asked as he rolled down his window. It was cool out. That's not what he really noticed, though. It was the _quiet_. Too much quiet. No sounds of any kind. Which usually meant the presence of malicious spirits or demons. He didn't like this. At all.

"I can't see anything. But we should be getting close."

"You said that two hundred trees back," Dean muttered. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he let out a frustrated breath. "Why the hell does this woman live so far out in the boonies, anyway? Who's this anti-social?"

Sam kept his eyes on the trees as me murmured, "I have no idea." A moment later, he said, a little louder, "Why don't you use the floodlight?"

Dean's eyes narrowed as he glimpsed something shiny on his side of the road. "Hey ..." He paused. As the car approached, the light became more distinct. It was definitely a building of some sort. "I think we've found it."

"Really?" Sam turned. Then he saw it, too - the form of a simple single story home with its porch light, as well as a few others, cutting through the pitch dark. Dean pulled the car of to the side of the road (there was no driveway or even a vehicle visible).

"Some place, huh?" Dean remarked as they made their way to the front porch. Along the way, he took note of placards inscribed with strange symbols which dangled from the trees closer to the house. Some went all the way back to where he'd parked. Whatever their purpose, they encompassed a large perimeter.

When they reached the front porch, Sam spotted a familiar symbol carved into one of the wooden posts, though he couldn't place it. He noticed the screen door was closed yet the inner door was wide open. Unable to locate a doorbell, he knocked on the edge of the screen door. After waiting almost a minute, he knocked again. Harder.

"Maybe she isn't home?" Dean suggested as he looked around. "No car."

"Why would she leave her front door wide open?"

Making a sweeping gesture towards the endless woods on all four sides of them, he replied, "I don't think she has to worry, Sam. Not even Steve Irwin would come out into this friggin' wilderness."

Sam pressed his ear against the screen. "I hear music inside. Somebody has to be here."

When Sam stepped back, Dean grabbed the screen door handle and pulled – it opened a crack. Glancing at Sam, he opened it the rest of the way. "Look at that." He smiled. "Must've been expecting us." Still grinning, he entered the house.

"Dean ..." Sam tried to stop him but didn't want to cross the threshold. He watched his brother stroll around the living room, examining some of the more Indian décor in the place. "Would you get out of there? You can't walk into someone's house, especially a total stranger's."

Dean ignored him and followed the sound of the music. It came from the hallway to his left. He looked to Sam as he walked backwards towards it. "Down here. You comin' or not?"

He vanished from Sam's sight as he entered the hall. "Dammit, Dean," Sam muttered as he entered the house. This wasn't the way somebody asked another for help. Especially a person with the reputation Shanti Patil seemed to have within the hunter community.

"Took you long enough," Dean said when Sam joined him.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Why? Something wrong with you? Besides the obvious?"

Sam's expression switched from angry to annoyed. "Why are you doing stuff like this? You can't just walk around like -" He stopped.

"Like I don't have a care in the world?" Dean suggested.

As an uncomfortable silence settled between them, a new song started to play. The music originated from the room at the end of the hall.

"Very superstitious ... writing on the wall  
Very superstitious ... ladder's 'bout to fall  
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin' glass  
Seven years bad luck, the good things in your past ..."

Dean jerked a thumb behind him. "Lemme do the talkin'."

"When you believe in things  
You don't understand  
Then you suffer  
Superstition ain't the way ..."

Sam shook his head as he walked by him. "You're keeping your mouth shut," he said, a strange authority about his voice Dean hadn't heard in a while.

The two stopped just inside of the last door on the left side of the hallway. They'd entered a room with two of its walls lined with bookshelves, jammed full of old leather-bound texts, piles of papers and folders were stacked almost everywhere and a variety of illustrations of different demons covered the one wall not covered in books.

On the left side of the doorway, the source of the music. A record player. Neither of them had seen one in actual use in years. The stacks of vinyl neatly arranged beside were mostly of pop artists from the late 50s to the end of the 70s.

On the right, a statue around four feet tall. The female form's body was black in color, her eyes as red as blood, her black hair disheveled, and small fangs protruded out of her mouth. Her only "clothing" was a skirt made of (what appeared to be) human arms and a garland of human heads. If Sam recognized it correctly, she was the Hindu goddess, Kali. In another corner, around the same size, was second female statue. Whom she was exactly, he didn't know. She was decidedly more welcoming than the other.

At the far end of the room, on the other side of a massive oak desk with her back to door, stood Shanti Patil. At least, they assumed so. She was too engrossed with the contents of the rickety bookshelf to notice them. Neither one clearly saw her face even though her almost waist-length jet black hair was gathered into a simple ponytail.

Dean elbowed Sam. "Go on," he murmured.

The woman muttered under her breath as she used a hand to adjust her glasses. The Stevie Wonder song came to its end and the needle skipped as it hit the center of the record.

"Ah, there you are," she said, an English accent coloring her voice, as she found what wanted. "Come on, then ..." She reached to the top shelf but she wasn't quite tall enough. "Damn," she swore.

She grabbed the shelf above her with one hand and placed a foot on another lower to the floor. As soon as she put her weight on the lower board, the wood cracked. In a matter of seconds, the rest of the aged case's shelves gave way. An avalanche of books knocked her off of her feet and she hit the floor behind the paper-covered desk with a thump.

"Bloody hell!"

"Are you all right?" Sam called as he and Dean weaved through the mess in the room to reach her on the other side.

Covered in books, she tilted her head back to look up at them and used both of her hands to fix her glasses, which sat cock-eyed on her face.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She stared at the hand Sam offered then flicked her gaze from it to Dean then back to Sam himself. "I asked a question, I expect an answer."

"Are you Dr. Patil?" Dean asked as he watched her use the desk to haul herself up from the floor.

She began to pick up the books and place them on it. "If you're here, you must already know," she tightly replied. She frowned as a hand went to the back of her head. "Stupid piece of junk."

"You okay?" Sam asked as he tried to get a better look at her face. He almost backed away when she narrowed her dark eyes at him.

"I would be _so_ much better if you'd tell me who you are and how you managed to get in here?"

Dean jerked a thumb towards the doorway. "If you don't want people walkin' in, maybe you should invest in a lock for your front door."

She slammed a book atop another and peered over the top rims of her glasses at Dean. "Or perhaps _you_ should learn propers manners and knock like a civilized person." Her head tilted to the left. "Or is that too much to ask of you?"

Sam shot an 'I told you so!' glare at his brother, which vanished when Shanti Patil focused her cold stare upon him again.

"Now, who _are_ you?"

"We're sorry about coming in uninvited," he apologized. He glanced at Dean who, still pissed over her remark, glared at the back of Shanti's head. "We could use your help," he added as he picked up one of her books then held it out to her. "That's all."

After she stared at Sam for a moment, she snatched it from him and placed on the desk. "Let me guess." She settled her hands on her hips as she faced him once more. "I'm rather good at this. You've a contract with a demon you wish to wiggle out of, yes?"

Sam glanced at Dean again. "Well, yeah, I -" A book slamming on the desk startled him as it cut him off mid-sentence.

"I'm terribly sorry you've wasted your time, Mr. ..." Her voice trailed off when she realized she still didn't know who these intruders were.

"Winchester," he supplied. "I'm Sam. That's my brother, Dean." Slowly, Shanti's expression morphed from annoyance to something Sam couldn't quite classify.

"_Winchester_," she semi-growled as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. "I've heard of you." Her gaze slid to Dean. "_Both_ of you."

Dean smirked. "Our fame does precede us these days."

"Fame for causing nothing but trouble and creating misery and death wherever you go," she spat back. She lifted an arm and pointed to the door. "I want no part of you. You can show yourselves out. You should remember the way."

"Doctor, we don't have a lot of time," Sam said, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone. "Please, just -" Another heavy text slammed on the desk and Shanti faced him once more. It was then he noticed a glimmering symbol hanging from a chain around her neck. He recognized it but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before.

"I'm quite sure you don't," she snapped. "Like every other blasted ponce who came rapping on my door at every unimaginable hour of the night. Why do you think I relocate so often, Mr. Winchester?"

"Well, I -"

"I didn't help any of _them_, and I most certainly do not intend to help _you_," she finished. She knelt down on the floor and continued to angrily gather up her books.

Sam's gaze met Dean's. Whatever Dean held back, it was killing him not to say it aloud. His jaw was clenched so tight, Sam could almost hear his teeth grind. "Dr. Patil, you haven't even listened to what we have to say," he said as she rose to her feet.

She let out a breath as she adjusted her glasses. "I don't _need_ to," she stated. "And do you know why? Because it's the same pathetic story, only the details change."

"What do you mean, it's the same story?"

"Some moronic git trades his soul for whatever bloody thing, his time is nearly up and he's desperate to escape his fate." An eyebrow arched. "Your story couldn't possibly be any different."

"If you knew the reason why, maybe it would change your mind?"

A hand brushed a loose lock of hair away from her face. "I don't care why you -"

"It wasn't me."

Shanti pivoted on her heel as she slid her gaze to Dean behind her. She shook her head disapprovingly then turned back to Sam. "Get _out_."

"You won't even listen to why -"

"I said, I don't care!" she nearly shouted. "More than that, I want nothing to do with you. I've heard plenty of stories about the Winchesters. Enough to know it isn't wise to get involved with you, on _any_ level." She glanced between the two. "Quite frankly, it doesn't surprise me you've gotten yourselves into such mess."

"What the hell would you know about it?"

Dean had been so quiet even Sam had almost forgotten he was there. Shanti, though, whirled around. "How dare you come here, begging for help?" she practically hissed. "You've muddied your karma to the point it taints everyone else you come into contact with. That alone is a good enough reason for me to simply throw you out on your arse."

One of Dean's hands balled into a fist. Only through amazing willpower - and reminding himself it wasn't right to punch a woman – did he manage to keep it at his side. Still, he didn't even feel Sam tugging at his arm, in an attempt to lead him away.

"I'm sorry we've bothered you," Sam quietly said when Shanti shifted her glare to him.

"Don't come back, either," she grumbled as they neared the door.

"That's it," Dean muttered as he started to turn around. Sam held too tight to his arm, though, so he didn't get far.

"Let's go." He glanced at Shanti. She was on her hands and knees again, collecting the last of her books and placing them into neat piles on the floor by the desk, muttering in a foreign language all the while.

Dean jerked his arm from Sam's grasp and headed down the hall. After one final look at the woman, Sam followed.

Once outside, Dean slammed the screen door shut so hard it bounced open again. "What the fuck is her problem? Where does she get off saying that to us?" As he turned, he found Sam standing on the porch with his head bowed. Then he realized something. "Hey, wait a minute," he said, much calmer than before, as he approached his brother. "Did you know she was gonna act like that?"

Sam's head lifted but he made it a point not to look Dean in the eye. "I ... might've suspected it," he answered, his voice so quiet Dean barely heard him.

"Why were _you_ so prepared?"

He sighed. "Bobby mentioned it when I talked to him." He finally met Dean's gaze. "She's not exactly a fan of our ... type. Hunters, I mean."

Dean stared at him. He didn't know if he wanted to be pissed at Sam or stay pissed at the bitch inside. Either way, he was gonna be pissed at _somebody_. "What's she got against hunters?"

"Rumor is, she doesn't approve of the way we do our job." Off of Dean's blank stare, he added, "I don't know what it means. Neither did Bobby. He warned me to be careful when we spoke to her."

"You're sayin' she's not even _involved_ with any of this? The war, all of it?" Dean asked as he pointed to her house. When Sam shook his head, he scoffed. "And _we're_ the ones with the 'muddied karma'? What the hell's she done? What kind of person keeps important information away from people? How is _that_ okay?"

"Let's just go," Sam said. He paused the glanced to his left, his eyes scanning the dark tree-line, before he focused on Dean again. "We'll give her the night to cool off. You could use it, too."

Dean shot one last glare at the house before he followed Sam to the car. If he had his way, they wouldn't even come back. They had enough shit of their own to deal with without the added grief from that ... woman.

-

Shanti sat back on her heels and surveyed the piles of book in front of her. They were all ancient, it amazed her none of them had been damaged in the fall. Her head turned and she narrowed her eyes at the collapsed shelving. Pushing the loose lock of hair from her face, she rose to her feet. She paused when she heard the sound of a vehicle driving away. Relief washed over her as the sound eventually faded.

They'd left. _Thank God_.

She focused her attention on the bookshelf. After a moment, she picked up one end of board and worked to reset it into place. As she did, she couldn't help but think back on the recent events with the Winchesters.

Trouble, that's what they were. Even among their own kind. She wasn't surprised they'd managed to find her. If those other ponces could, why not them? Just the thing she didn't need right then, when she wanted nothing but to concentrate on her work.

She paused and looked over her shoulder. A few seconds later, she shook her head - she thought she'd heard a noise in the corridor. In addition to aggravating her, they'd succeeded in putting her on edge.

"There," she sighed as she hooked the plank into place.

Once done, she re-shelved her books. Her hands brushed over her jeans when it was completed. As she turned to collected the last of her texts from the desk, she froze. She was no longer alone in the room.

A young man, medium build, short dark brown hair, stood in the open doorway. He didn't say a word, he only stared at her. Her eyes glimpsed sight of a thin rope clutched in one of his hands. Whomever he was, she wasn't going to like his visit any more than the Winchesters'.

"Who're you?" she asked, her voice calm and even.

"I ..." The man's nervousness increased as he tried to speak. His eyes darted frantically, as if he searched for something. "I was ..." The rope slipped from his fingers and landed in a pile on the floor beside him.

Slowly, Shanti moved away from the bookshelf. Her eyes flicked from the rope to the stranger. "What do you want from me?" She saw the sweat glistening on his forehead. And it was unusually cool for this time of year.

"Someone sent me here," he said. Forgetting the rope, he came a few feet closer to where she stood.

"Who sent you?"

"An old friend of yours. Said she wants to see you."

She glanced at a nearby statue and wondered if she could get her hands on it before he finally reached her. "I haven't any friends here," she simply replied.

"Look - I can't come back without you. There's no telling what she'll do to me."

When the man lunged towards her, Shanti grabbed the smaller Kali statue by its neck and used her best cricket swing to bring it around. The flat side of the square base struck her attacker in the upper portion of his right arm. While he was distracted by his own agony, she dropped it and made a dash for the closed door by the bookcase.

A surprised scream escaped her lips when she was violently jerked backwards by her ponytail. Losing her balance, her arms thrust out to break her fall. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough. Her head smacked against the edge of her heavy oak desk as she collapsed to the floor. Dazed, she couldn't do anything as the stranger wrapped a hand around her throat, to hold her down.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said, almost apologetically. "You didn't give me any choice."

Shanti squinted as attempted to focus on her attacker face. "Why ... are you ... doing this?" she choked out. She felt the burn of the rope as it was tightly laced around her wrists.

"She promised to let me out of our deal," he explained. He paused in his work, his expression turning more sad than anything. "I can't leave her alone. She won't survive without me."

"Deal?" she repeated as her vision cleared. She focused on the man's face, he was almost terrified now. She'd seen the look many times before. Too many. "A crossroads demon?"

"Yes." Before he had the chance to say another word, the sound of someone charging into the doctor's home caught his attention. His face paled as a male voice called out, "Dr. Patil?"

Shanti's eyes drifted shut, the bump to her head was taking its toll. Still, she recognized the voice. It was one of the Winchesters. What were _they_ doing back?

"Shit," breathed the man. His head snapped up when Dean suddenly appeared in the doorway. He glanced down at Shanti, who reached her bound hands up to the left side of her head, then he carefully rose to his feet. After a few seconds, he bolted for the second door by the bookcase.

Dean sprinted across the room only to reach the door as the would-be kidnapped slammed it shut in his face before he locked it. In the next instant, he heard another door beyond it slam shut.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, kicking the door. It led to a back way out of the house. He headed for the main entrance to the office as Sam appeared.

"Where'd he go?" he asked as Dean nearly plowed into him.

"Out the back!" Dean called as he ran down the hall. "Check on her!" he added then he vanished from Sam's sight. The sound of the screen door falling shut followed.

"Doctor?"

Shanti struggled to sit up as she removed the roped from her wrists. She side-glanced when Sam knelt beside her. "I'm fine," she shortly said as she tossed the rope away.

He examined the the left side of her head, near her hairline. "Are you sure? This doesn't look good." His hand barely brushed against her skin when she slapped it away.

"I said I was _fine_." She grabbed the desk and shakily pulled herself to her feet. Once she was upright, she let go. She swayed as minor dizziness washed over her. Immediately, she latched onto the desk with both hands to steady herself.

"You might have a concussion," he said as she stood straight again. He could see her hands shaking a little as she touched her forehead. "Maybe we should take you to a hospital?"

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" she muttered as she looked to him. He seemed so concerned, she felt guilty about snapping at him.

"I only want to help."

"You've helped enough." She dropped her hand down to her neck. "Ah, bugger," she sighed. Her fingers brushed over her collarbone then her gaze dropped to the floor.

"Is this what you're missing?"

Her head lifted. Sam held up the chain which she'd lost during the struggled. She hesitated before she accepted it. "Thank you," she softly said.

"You're welcome." At least he knew she had something other than vitriol to offer. He turned as Dean entered the room, out of breath.

"Bastard disappeared into the woods," he reported as he joined them. He motioned to Shanti, who was refastening the chain around her neck. "She all right?"

"Yes," she answered as her hands dropped to her sides. "Now, I thought I'd told you to leave? Why did you come back?"

"I saw someone lurking around the trees," Sam told her. "He didn't know how to hide very well. We made him think we'd left then came back. In case you might've been in trouble," he added.

She only stared at them.

"This is where you say, 'Wow, thanks for saving my life'," Dean prompted.

"_Thank_ you?" She scoffed as she folded her arms across her stomach. "For what? Seven years I've lived in this country. No more than you barge in, I'm attacked and nearly abducted! I wonder why _that_ is?"

"This is _our_ fault?" Dean incredulously asked. "That guy nearly kills you and that's all you can say?"

"Unlike you, I have no fear of death." She motioned to her left. "Lock the door on your way out this time, if you would, please?"

Before Dean could say anything else, Sam spoke, "All right." He looked to Dean. "We'll go. She doesn't want us in her house."

Dean threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine. What do I care?" He left the room, muttering under his breath.

Sam stopped at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. Shanti was seated behind her desk now. One hand massaged the left side of her head while she gazed at a framed photo at the upper right hand corner of it. When she glanced at him, he quickly left.

Outside, Dean was already by the car. He leaned against the driver's side door, his eyes never left Sam as he approached. "How do you like that?" he snorted, waving a hand at the house. "We save her ass and she gives us more grief. What is her goddamn problem with us?"

"Whatever it is, we can't just walk away."

Dean frowned. He knew that tone. "You're not thinkin' about stickin' around here, are you?" When Sam didn't answer, he went on. "Are you crazy? What if she calls the cops? Or worse, the Feds? Hell, she probably already did."

He shook his head. "I don't think she would."

"What makes you so sure?"

"A feeling." He saw the look on Dean's face. "Even if she won't help us, we have to help her."

"No, we don't. _She_ can deal with it." He pointed to his watch. "In case you've forgotten, I only have a year left, Sammy. I'd like to use what time there is wisely. So to hell with this woman. Let's go do something fun."

"You go. I'll stay."

After a few moments, Dean shook his head. "And _I_ get called the stubborn one," he muttered. "All right." He tossed up his hands, as if in surrender. "Fine. We'll stay." He opened his door. "But the next time she gets bitchy with me, I'm _not_ keepin' my mouth shut," he added, pointing a finger at him.

-

End Chapter Two.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

-------------

A loud pounding woke Sam and Dean from their sleep. Sunlight poured through all of the Impala's windows. Day had come. Both suffered the brief disorientation anyone had when waking up in a strange place. Not as though the Impala was a 'strange place', they simply didn't tend to sleep in it a lot these days.

The insistent pounding caught their attention again. They saw the doctor, hair loosely hanging over her shoulders, a battered blue cotton robe wrapped snugly around her, glaring through the windshield at them. The palm of her hand hit the glass one more time.

"Hey, take it easy on the car," Dean snapped as he rolled down his window.

She leaned over so she could see them both through Dean's window. "Why are you still here?" she demanded. "The longer you stay, the more dangerous you are to me."

"Thought you weren't afraid of dyin'?" Dean smirked when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"There are things decidedly worse than death," she informed him. "I shouldn't expect someone as ignorant as you to understand."

Dean's smirk immediately vanished.

"We're only here to help you, Doctor," Sam assured her.

"I've no need for any help you have to offer." She stood straight and headed back to her house.

"At least _we're_ offerin'!" Dean yelled out of the window. "More than _you_ can say!"

She smartly pivoted on a heel and marched back to the car. "We create our own suffering, Mr. Winchester," she hissed. "You want a solution to your quandry? _You_ suss it out. Until then? Sod off!"

Baffled, Dean looked to Sam. "Dude, did we wrong her in another life?"

Sam didn't reply. Instead, he only watched as Shanti entered her house and slammed the door shut behind her. Whatever her problem with them, it didn't matter. Someone (or something) was after her. It wasn't right to turn their backs on her, whether she wanted them to or not.

"I'm starving," Dean said as he started the car.

"What're you doing?"

"Going to find a place to eat."

"What if that guy comes back?"

"I feel sorry for him." Dean shifted the car into 'drive', then looked over to Sam. "She'll be okay, Sam." He took his foot off the brake and pulled away from the side of the road.

-

Felton Howard sat directly in the center of the dirt crossroads. He'd been in this position for the better part of an hour, his eyes absently affixed to the knife in his hands. He'd failed.

It wasn't for lack of trying or even the arrival of the two guys, really. He was inside the woman's house earlier in the afternoon the day before. He didn't make it to her office, though. He'd aimlessly wandered through the place, in an attempt to convince himself to go through with it.

He couldn't.

The second time, however, he'd had to wait for the two guys to leave. Or he'd _thought_ they'd left. He was purely lucky he'd managed to escape the one who'd chased him. Now, here he was, the next morning, parked on a deserted back-road, working up the courage to summon the demon.

He lifted his head. The sun had only been up for twenty minutes. Not until the past few months did he pay attention to the passage of time. Each day was one step closer to the inevitable. Those days were frighteningly few now.

He gripped the blade's handle as he drew in a breath. As he stared at the portion of ground in front of him he'd chosen, he hoped she'd allow him to keep those few days despite his utter failure.

Almost immediately upon plunging the knife into the earth the demon – in the same body as before – appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He stared at her black high-heel clad feet, unable to look her in the eye.

"Where is she?"

His lips pressed together as he gripped the blade's handle. "I'm sorry," he quietly apologized. "I couldn't do it." He gasped in surprise as she seized him by the coat and hauled him to his feet. Her eyes swirled black.

"Couldn't or _wouldn't_?" she hissed. She pulled him closer. The stench of the sulfur filled his nostrils as she did. "It was a _simple_ request, Felton."

He averted his gaze. She unsettled him enough already, but those _eyes_ ... "I almost had her but these two guys were there -"

"Two guys?" she repeated, a different tone in her voice now. "What ... two guys?"

"Two guys in a black Chevy. A '67 Impala, I think. Might've been a '69. It was dark, I couldn't see it that well."

"And they _saw_ you?"

Felton's mind flashed back to the woman's office, the point where the one who'd chased him into the woods had entered the room. "One of them, for sure," he murmured.

"You_ idiot_!" she exclaimed as she shoved him away.

After he pushed himself from the ground, he looked up to her. "I thought they'd gone! They came back!" He watched her angrily pace back and forth in front of him. "Who are they, anyway?"

She shot him a glare. "It's none of your concern. We'll have to take this to the next level because of your blundering."

"Next ... level?"

"You'll have to kill her, since you've proved yourself useless as an abductor. I can't run the risk of those two weaseling information out of her." Her expression turned darker. "Besides, the bitch deserves to die."

His eyes widened as the blood ran out of his face. "K-kill her?" he whispered. "I ... I can't do that."

She crouched beside him, then took his chin in one of her hands. "If you want out of your contract, you can. Unless you'd rather spend eternity with me?" She raised her eyebrows. "You wouldn't want that, Felton. All of the ... things I could do to you." A razor-sharp fingernail dragged down the length of his neck. "_Nasty_ things you wouldn't enjoy."

He swallowed, his eyes never left hers as he nervously nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

She deviously smiled as she rested her other hand on top of the knife. "You're a clever boy. Be creative. As long as it looks like an accident. Understood?"

He nodded again.

"Hmm. Good. Also?" She tapped the glimmering knife with her fingernails. "Under no circumstances are you to allow this to falling into their hands."

He glanced from the knife to her. "Why?"

Her fingers clamped hard on his chin. "The why isn't your concern, either. Just see it doesn't happen, Felton. Or I'll make sure your little girl joins us for playtime."

"You can't -"

"Can't I? You want to try me?"

Mouth agape, Felton shook his head. "No."

"One final thing. You aren't to touch either one of those boys. One's important to me, the other to someone else." She let go of his chin. "When you've finished, you know what to do."

No more than she'd yanked the knife from the ground, she was gone. Right in front of his eyes. He blinked a few times as he turned, searching for her. As he settled his gaze on the knife, he realized he was completely alone once again.

-

"Thanks." Dean gave the pretty young blonde waitress - her nametag identifying her as 'Rosalyn' - one of his special smiles as she delivered the salt he'd asked for to his and Sam's booth.

She smiled just as sweetly in return. "You're welcome." Before he could lay one of his lines on her, she added, "Not interested. You have a nice day now." She headed to her next table.

His own smile faded as he shifted his gaze across the table to Sam, who laughed lightly. "Glad you're so amused," he grumbled. He added the salt to his second plate of eggs and clanked the shaker onto the table. This just wasn't his day where females were concerned. "What're you reading?" he asked, nodding to the leather-bound book Sam had been engrossed in for the past fifteen minutes, instead of eating.

"Book I picked up on Hinduism, bookstore across the street," he replied, slightly nodding to the window on his left.

"What brought that on?"

"Dr. Patil." He turned a the page in the book.

"Just because she's Indian doesn't mean she's Hindu. Aren't you stereotyping, Sam?" He paused as the waitress walked by again, smiling in a way he didn't like. Frowning, he focused on his food.

Sam lifted his head. "Did you pay attention to anything in her house?"

He shrugged, then admitted, "No."

"You didn't notice the statues of Kali in her living room or her office?"

"The half-naked chick wearin' the skull necklace?" After Sam nodded, he grinned. "That was pretty cool lookin'."

Shaking his head, Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He flipped back a few pages in the text then pushed it across the table so Dean could see it. "Look familiar?" He tapped a finger against the page.

Dean tilted his head as he studied the illustration. To him, it appeared to be a number '3' with a coffee mug handle attached to its back. "It was on the necklace she had. So, what is it?"

"It's the 'om' symbol," Sam explained when it was obvious that was all Dean knew. "It represents the sound of the creation of the universe."

Dean slid the book back across the table. "Must be a sucking sound, then." He didn't see the look the comment earned from Sam. Instead, he went back to eating.

A few minutes later, Sam broke the silence.

"Dad never taught us much about these Eastern beliefs," he thoughtfully commented. "Enough to get by, but nothing detailed. You ever wonder why?"

"Never occurred to me to ask him," Dean answered with a shrug. "We do all right what what we know, Sam. Who cares what some swami has to say?"

"You remember what she told you? We create our own suffering?"

"What the hell does _she_ know?"

He drummed his fingers against the covers of the text. "According to this, it would suggest she knows a lot."

Laughing, he sat back in the booth seat. "Oh, really?"

"People are warned not to become too attached to their attachments." He paused as he watched Dean go back to his food. "At some point, we have to let go of every single one of them."

Dean glanced up when Sam didn't continue. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Leaning forward, Sam dropped his voice to almost a whisper, "Think about it. Why are we even here?"

A shrug. "I wanted breakfast."

Sam let out a breath, frustrated. He didn't know if Dean was playing stupid or truly didn't understand what he was trying to tell him. "_You_ couldn't let go, that's why."

The silverware clattered loudly on the empty plate as Dean, too, leaned over the table. "I was supposed to leave you _dead_ because some wack-ass religion says so?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Sorry, Sam. I wasn't letting that happen. I told you before, I don't have any problem with what I did."

"You created the current situation because you couldn't leave it alone."

"That's it." Dean snatched the book from Sam's hands and tossed it onto the booth seat beside him. "You're not allowed to read this shit anymore." He pointed to the plate in front of Sam. "Eat your food, so we can get the hell out of here."

-

Nearly two hours had passed since the Winchesters had left Shanti Patil's house unguarded. Dean made every effort to stall the return to the place with any excuse imaginable. However, Sam drew the line when he'd wanted to run the car through the self-wash in town. They'd allowed the doctor to be alone for too long already.

"What do you think we're gonna accomplish here?" Dean asked as he gazed through the driver's side window at the woman's house across the dirt "street". He looked to Sam when his brother didn't answer. "She hates us for who the hell knows what reason. How do you help somebody like that, Sam? I'm sure as hell not sitting here forever. We still have a job to do. Or did you forget about those escaped demons?"

"If she ends up dead, that's on us."

"We create our own misery, remember?" he answered with a smirk. "She ends up dead, it's her fault. And are you really _that_ surprised somebody's trying to off her?" Her jerked a thumb towards her house. "I'm just amazed no one's managed yet."

"Your lack of concern for other people is duly noted, Dean," Sam flatly said.

His eyebrows arched, more than a bit stunned at the snarky response. "What do I do for a living? What have I always done? And _I_ don't care about other people?"

"I don't want to get into this right now," he quietly replied, looking past Dean to the house.

"Oh, hell no. You say somethin' like that, you're not getting out of it." He sat back when Sam raised a hand to shut him up. "What?" He followed Sam's pointing finger. A form lurked around the same woods near the woman's house. "You're kiddin' me. He came _back_?"

Sam opened his door. "Either him or somebody else." He squinted. He'd not seen the man from the night before, he couldn't be sure who it was himself.

"Next time you get a name from a complete stranger, Sam, keep it to yourself," Dean muttered as they crossed the dirt road.

"You check the woods, I'll check the house."

Before he could confirm he'd heard Sam, Shanti Patil's house – the _entire_ house – exploded.

The concussion waves from the massive explosion threw them, along with large pieces of debris, back almost a full ten feet. They both landed hard on the ground near the car. Neither moved.

On the other side of the street, planks of wood continued to rain down upon the inferno which had resulted.

-

End Chapter Three


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

------------

"Dean?"

Dean heard someone call his name. Whoever it was, he sounded like he was a thousand miles away.

"_Dean_!"

Then he recognized the voice – Sam. He felt someone shake him. Slowly, his eyes opened. It took a moment for him to realize he was flat on his back, staring straight up at a gray overcast sky. He blinked. Were they dead? He hadn't known what to expect Hell to look like. Certainly not like this, though.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as he appeared in Dean's line of sight. He was cut up, but nothing too serious. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," he groaned. He tried to sit up but every single part of his body refused to do anything except let him feel the pain. "Goddammit," he breathed as he fell back onto the ground.

Sam took him by an arm and helped Dean to his feet. He waited for him to get his balance then he let go. "You sure you're - "

He yanked his arm back before Sam could touch him again. "I'm alive." His hand brushed a particularly annoying throbbing area on his forehead. When he lowered his hand, he found blood stained his fingers. "Nice." He shifted his gaze to Sam. "What about ...?"

Sam motioned towards the house. Or the smoldering debris covered char-mark where it _used_ to be, anyway. She was smack in the middle of it. She sifted through the remains, and occasionally picked up something then placed it into a pile where her front porch once stood.

"How'd she -"

"I didn't have the chance to ask yet." He paused as Shanti stopped near the back portion of the house. She lifted a door which he assumed led to her cellar, then descended the stairs and vanished from sight. "She's the one who brought me to."

"Was she even hurt?"

"Not a scratch."

Unsteadily, Dean ambled towards the remains. "I'd like to know how that happened."

"We have a bigger problem on our hands right now, Dean," Sam said as he joined him.

He winced as he pressed a finger to the cut on his head. The bleeding had almost stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Well ..." Sam made a sweeping gesture to the smoldering collection of wood and cement before them. "She doesn't have a place to live, for one."

"And that's _my_ problem? She can stay in a motel."

Sam frowned. "We aren't leaving her at a motel." He glanced to his left. The doctor had emerged from the cellar, toting what looked to be a medium-sized fireproof safe. "We have to find a secure place for her until we figure out what's going on here."

"We don't know anyone in Missouri anymore."

"True," he admitted then lifted his eyebrows. "We do in Nebraska, though."

Aware Bobby was currently in Illinois, the only other possibility hit him.

"Ellen?!" Dean almost laughed in his face. "You want to take _her_ -" He pointed in Shanti's direction. "- to _Ellen's_? Do you have any idea how many levels of pissed off she'd be? She told us not to come around unless it was an emergency."

Since the incident in the cemetery, the Winchesters weren't the only ones with a lot of demon heat on them. Ellen Harvelle's and Bobby Singer's involvement had painted a huge target on their backs as well. Ellen had retreated to an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere in an attempt to drop off the grid. For as long as she possibly could.

"I think this qualifies. We don't have any other options."

Dean let out a heavy breath. "All right. But you're ringin' the doorbell. She's pissed off at me enough as it is."

Like Bobby, Ellen had given him a lengthy and relentless ass-chewing over what he'd done in order to get Sam back. Hers was much worse, however. He didn't know what it was, but she'd heaped on the disappointment in ways Bobby hadn't. Not even their own father could've matched her on his best day. Dean assumed it was a "mom" thing.

Sam knew what was on Dean's mind just then. He'd taken it from all side since that night, even from Sam himself. One of his worst – easily the stupidest - decisions ever, but it couldn't be changed, only fixed. He flicked his gaze to Shanti who stared at something in her hands. Hopefully, it could be fixed.

"Go tell her." Dean waved a hand in the doctor's direction. "This is _your_ bright idea, Einstein."

"Yeah," he slowly said as he tried to figure out how to approach her with it. As adamant as she was about not wanting anything to do with them, it'd be a tough sell.

"Doctor?"

Shanti's head lifted and she hugged the framed photo she'd been gazing upon close to her chest. "Is he all right, then?" she asked, nodding towards Dean.

"A little banged up, but we've been through worse."

Her mouth quirked. "I'm sure you have," she murmured. She scanned the rubble. "I ask you, is _this_ your idea of protection, Mr. Winchester?"

"I'm sorry -"

"Sorry?" She laughed as she shook her head. "We're well beyond a simple 'sorry'. I have no home." She knelt down to pick through some of the tattered books she'd found. "I have practically nothing left now because of you."

"We didn't do this." Sam gestured to the area. "We did see someone running into the woods just before the explosion, though."

"That would've been me," she replied as she swept her ponytail over her shoulder. "I was in my office when I heard someone outside. I thought it may've been you lot creepin' around, so I came out to investigate." She sighed. "I wasn't more than a few hundred yards away when ..."

So that was how she'd escaped. "Lucky for you."

"There is no such thing as luck." She looked up to him, wiping a filthy hand across her forehead to clear off the sweat. "My entire world was here. It's nearly all gone. If you don't mind, I'd like to salvage what I can of it. Please, just leave."

"We can't do that," he replied shaking his head. "You were almost killed twice." She gazed up at him through her partially-filthy lenses. The expression on her face was incomprehensible. "I know you believe it's our fault. Since that's the case, we should do our best to make up for it. We can help, if you'll let us."

After a few moments of silence, she quietly replied, "The best way to do that is to simply leave and never come back."

As Sam started to protest, a large, empty duffel bag hit the ground a few inches away from Shanti. Dean appeared beside him.

"Okay. Get your junk and let's go," he ordered. He snapped his fingers when she only blankly stared at him. "Come on. We don't have all damn day."

"Excuse me?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"I didn't stutter." He pointed to the duffel again. "Junk, bag, now. _Move it_." He didn't move or even blink as she rose up to her full height, her glare even harsher than before.

"If you think I'm going anywhere -" She stepped back as Dean began to toss her things she'd salvaged from the wreckage into the duffel. "What're you're doing?" she demanded. "Don't you dare -" Dean stood straight and the look on his face silenced her – immediately.

"In case you didn't notice, this place is kaput. That goes for all of your weird wards or whatever, too. How long do you think it'll be before your non-human fan club shows up? Or were you hopin' being a bitch would keep them at bay?"

Her face hardened with each word he spoke. When he'd finished, the look she wore was unlike any other either had seen on her before. Her jaw tightened as she snatched the duffel from his hand. "I'll take my chances with them, thank you," she hissed.

Dean sighed. "Guess we're doin' this the easy way then, Doc." He grabbed her by the upper left arm and started to walk towards the car.

"Let go of me!"

"Dean," Sam said as he fell into step beside him. Part of him was behind Dean's decision, but the other knew this would only further complicate the already strained relations between them and the woman. "Would you let -"

"No. I'm done screwing around, Sammy." He tugged Shanti along as he side-glanced at his brother. "You won't leave without her and I don't want to be here when whatever she's tryin' to keep out knows it can get _in_."

Shanti jumped as Dean snagged the duffel from her and threw it into the backseat of the Impala. In the next moment, she followed.

"You can't do this!"

He leaned over, one arm draped along the top of the door, then he coldly stated, "I just did." With that, he slammed the door shut. "What?" he asked when he saw the way Sam looked at him. "_You're_ the one who wants to help her, so we're helping her."

"This wasn't what I had in mind," Sam replied as Dean opened the driver's side door. "I had it under control."

"No, you didn't." He motioned to the car. "Let's go. It's a long drive to Ellen's."

Sam let out a frustrated breath as Dean slammed his own door shut. He was so different lately, which Sam could understand. To a point. But this? This was ... beyond.

He shifted his gaze to the back window. Shanti, arms folded across her chest, sat in the back seat, scowling. Given the chance, he was sure he would've convinced her to leave with them. It would be tougher to gain her trust now, thanks to Dean's impatience.

-

The sun had nearly run its course for the day. The deeper into the west it set, the closer evening drew. Once it was dark, things would be different. More dangerous.

They were pushing it. Dean had taken longer driving to Ellen's than expected. A few times, he thought they were being followed. Doubling back and taking various side roads added on extra travel hours. But it settled his nerves, and that was all that mattered.

He turned down the radio as he cast a sidelong glance to Sam in the passenger's seat. "We should be there pretty soon," he said.

Sam lifted his head from his hand. He'd been blankly gazing out of the passenger's side window for the past fifteen minutes. "Are you convinced we're not being followed now?"

Dean half-shrugged. "If we are, they're doing a damn good job of it." He looked in the rearview mirror. Shanti continued to stare out of her own window. She hadn't said a single word since they'd left her place. "Think she's gonna give us the silent treatment forever?"

"I wouldn't blame her."

He glanced at Sam, then opted not to get into it again. "Think she's okay, though?"

Sam turned in the seat. "Are you all right, Doctor?"

She briefly tore her gaze from the passing scenery to look at Sam, then went right back to it.

Dean looked at her via the rearview mirror. "He asked you a question. Least you could do is answer him."

Shanti faced forward. She looked from Dean's reflection in the mirror to Sam. "In the past 24 hours I've had my privacy violated, was nearly abducted and my home, along with almost everything in it, blown to pieces," she snapped. "How d'you bloody think I am?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she sat back in the seat. "None of which would've happened if you two hadn't darkened my doorstep," she added in a murmur.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. "Do you ever not blame other people for the shit that happens to you?"

"Do _you_ ever take responsibility when you cause it?" she angrily snapped. She came forward again, using both hands to grip the back of the front seat. "If you hadn't been so maddeningly _stupid_ in the first place, you never would've sought me out. Therefore, this is all _your_ fault."

His hands turned white as they tightened around the steering wheel. Something which didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," he calmly said as he looked to the woman.

Her expression softened as when she shifted her attention to Sam. "I feel extremely sorry for you," she said, her voice more even than before. "You must've accumulated an insane amount of bad karma in a past life -" Her eyes narrowed as she looked to Dean again. "- to have been burdened with a complete _prat_ for a brother in _this_ one."

"What the hell did you just call me?" Dean exclaimed as he turned almost fully in the front seat. The car violently swerved, reminding him he was the one driving. Quickly, he put the car right on the road but shot her a nasty glare via the mirror.

Shanti sat back in the seat once more, scowl planted firmly on her face as she looked out the window. "Bloody idiot," she muttered, which was followed by something else in a foreign language.

Sam sighed as he turned to Dean. "Why can't you ignore her?"

"I don't have to take that." He added, a little louder, "I got no problem with drop-kicking her ass outta my car, either."

"Please do," was her snide reply from the back.

"I swear, I'm gonna - "

"If you do that at Ellen's," Sam cut in. "_- she'll_ get mad." He waited, allowing it to sink into Dean's head exactly what that would entail. "Leave it alone."

After one last glare in the mirror, Dean grumbled something in response. He slowed down as they finally reached the lone structure in the middle of this portion of desolate wasteland called Nebraska.

-

End Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

-

Shanti summoned every ounce of her strength to pull the filthy duffel bag containing the last remnants of her life from the backseat of the Impala. Once she did, it dropped to the ground. She stared at it, unsure if she would be able to actually pick it up.

"You want me to carry that for you?" Sam asked as he shut the back door.

She brushed the loose hair away from her face then looked up to him. "No. I'm quite capable of handling it myself, thank you." After a few attempts, she succeeded in hurling it over a shoulder.

"I hope she has somethin' cooked," Dean said he passed by them, headed for the front porch of the two-story farmhouse which looked like it'd seen better days. About a hundred years ago. "I'm friggin' dyin'." He looked back to Sam, smiling wryly. "Figure of speech there, Sammy."

"Yeah, very funny," he mumbled. He noticed Shanti watched him with an odd expression on her face. She didn't say anything. Neither did he.

Dean had no more than placed a foot on the bottom step of the ancient wooden porch when the screen door flew open. As it did, the sound of a shotgun shell being pumped into the barrel made him freeze. His hands went up as Ellen Harvelle leveled the weapon on him. "Whoa,_ hey_! It's us!"

She hesitated before she lowered the gun. "Dean?" She looked past him as Sam, followed by a light-skinned Indian woman, joined him at the bottom of the porch. "What the hell are you two doing here?" She nodded towards Shanti. "Who's she?"

"She's okay, Ellen," Dean assured. "We just need to crash here for a day or two."

Ellen studied them almost for a full minute, then she sighed and motioned for them to come up. "If you're here, you must be desperate."

"You don't know the half of it," he muttered as he walked by Ellen and entered the house.

"Thanks, Ellen." Sam stopped in front of her. "We ... we didn't know where else to go."

She faintly smiled, her features much more tired than the last time he'd seen her. "It's okay." Her attention shifted to the woman. "Ellen Harvelle," she greeted as she held out a hand.

Sam braced himself for the worst, but was surprised when Shanti pleasantly smiled and accepted Ellen's hand.

"Shanti Patil," she politely replied. "I apologize for the intrusion, Ms. Harvelle."

Ellen shrugged. "Don't worry about it." She motioned for her to go inside. Once Shanti passed over the threshold, Ellen relaxed a little. "Well, she isn't possessed." She nodded to an array scrawled on the awning above them. "Wouldn't've have made it into the house otherwise."

He watched Shanti place the duffel on the floor of the small entranceway beyond the front door. "She's definitely behaving differently."

"How's that?"

"You'll find out soon enough." He looked to Ellen. "Trust me."

After she secured the front door, Ellen carefully placed her shotgun in the corner beside it. "You must be the woman the hunters have been talkin' about over the years," she said as she turned to Shanti. "Have to admit, I thought you were a figment of somebody's imagination."

"We're not that lucky," Dean grumbled from his spot in the open doorway between the main hall and the kitchen. He jerked when Sam hit him in the arm. "What?"

Shanti ignored him, her focus on Ellen. "It was never my intention to ... integrate myself into your system." She adjusted her glasses.

Ellen raised an eyebrow, curious. "That so? How'd you end up with these two, then?"

The other woman clasped her hands together behind her back. "They blew up my house."

"_We did not!_" Dean declared.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you did," Ellen sighed, shaking her head. She shifted her attention back to Shanti. "You look like you've been through the mill." She gestured to the dirt and soot covered clothes the younger woman wore. "Nothin' I have would fit you, but you're welcome to clean up." She pointed to the staircase farther down the main hall. "Bathroom's on the second floor, first door on the left."

"Thank you, Ms. Harvelle."

"No need for formalities. Just call me 'Ellen'."

Shanti smile a bit, unsure, then replied, "Thank you ... Ellen." She took the duffel in both hands and headed for the staircase. She ignored Dean's glare as she passed by him and Sam.

Once she disappeared up the stairs, Dean turned to Ellen. "Why the hell's she bein' so nice to _you_?" he asked as he pointed to the steps.

"Maybe because I didn't blow up her house?" Ellen suggested as she walked into the kitchen. "You boys hungry?"

"We did _not_ blow up her house!" Dean defensively snapped as he and Sam followed her. "Whoever is after her did. Damn near took us out in the process, too."

Ellen studied a minor cut on Sam's face. Her fingers brushed lightly against it as she said, "I'd wondered what happened to you."

Dean opened the refrigerator door and sifted through the contents inside. "That's only part of it."

She walked to the sink, then ran cool water over a washrag. "I reckoned as much," she commented. She turned off the faucet and wrung the excess water from the rag. On her way back to Sam, she smacked Dean in the back of the head. "They invented glasses for a reason."

The milk jug lowered as he scowled at her. After kicking the door shut, he headed to one of the cabinets.

"Thanks," Sam quietly said to Ellen as he pressed the wet rag to his face.

Heavily sighing, she dropped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "All right – what's goin' on?"

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Ellen shook her head as she sat up straight in her chair. "Trouble follows you boys around, doesn't it?"

Dean paused in between bites of his sandwich to grumble, "You sound like _her_, Ellen."

Sam stopped absently picking at the partially-dried rag. "It doesn't matter. All that does is finding out what's going on. Someone wants her dead."

"That surprises you?" Dean snorted. "If she's treated everyone else the same way she's treated us, the list of suspects must be massive. I still say we should've left her at a goddamn motel." The sound of someone approaching the kitchen put a frown on his face. "Great. Here she comes."

"Hey." When Dean looked at him, Sam mouthed, 'Leave it alone.'

Dean was about to respond but his eyes went a little wider as he looked past Sam to the kitchen doorway.

"What?" Sam turned in his own chair. Then it made sense. Standing in the doorway was not the Shanti Patil they'd met the day before.

She still wore her glasses and her hair was – as usual - in a ponytail, but her clothes were vastly different. It wasn't a typical sari they were familiar with, as those weren't divided into two pieces, yet the look was the same. The short-sleeved top and the nearly floor-length, flowing skirt were both a bright orangish-red, accented along the edges and ornate with gold designs.

She nervously adjusted her glasses, unsettled by the way the Americans regarded her. "This was my only kit which wasn't damaged," she explained. "It was stored in a safe, because of its importance." Her gaze shifted to Ellen. "Is ... is it all right, then?"

Ellen shrugged. "Absolutely." She gestured to the empty chair between her and Dean. "Why don't you sit? Can I get you anything?"

"A glass of water would be fine," she replied as she gathered her skirt to sit down in the chair.

Sam looked from the brightly clad woman to Dean, who continued to gape almost wide-eyed at her. He smacked him in the shoulder.

"What?" he hissed as he looked back at Sam.

"That's not polite," he murmured.

"I didn't _say_ anything."

"That's not what I meant." He tried to smile when he noticed Shanti watching them both, a blank expression on her face.

"Quit hitting me, dammit," Dean grumbled, rubbing his arm.

"Here you are." Ellen placed the glass on the table in front of Shanti as she seated herself.

"Thank you." She smiled then took a sip of the water. "You're quite considerate. More than I can say for most of you Americans."

"Maybe you can show some consideration in return by givin' these boys some answers," Ellen replied as she nodded to Sam and Dean. "If they're goin' to help you, they'll need 'em."

"If I didn't possess information they wanted, they wouldn't give a toss."

"Why would you think that?"

She looked to Sam. "You so-called 'hunters' are all alike." Her tone even more harsh than before. "Invading my privacy, telling others about what I do, and always trying to pry details from me. If not for yourselves, for some other idiot. Then there were those who attempted to guilt me into participating in your absolutely ludicrous 'war'."

"Ludicrous?" Dean repeated. "Do you have any goddamn idea what's goin' on out there?" His voice rose with each word. "What we're fightin' and _dyin'_ for? How many people we've _saved_? Even over the last two years?"

"How many lives you've _saved_?" Her eyes narrowed as she continued. "You honestly believe you're helping other people with what you do? No. You're making things so much bloody _worse_."

"Is that right?"

"Dean ..." Sam said, a hand resting on one of his brother's shoulders.

He shrugged it off, never looking away from the doctor for a second. "How would _you_ know? You're not out there, dealin' with the same shit we are, day in and day out."

"I know that wherever you go, evil follows. Perhaps not evil as you'd define it, Mr. Winchester, but it's evil all the same." She leaned forward slightly. "Every single one of your kind carries it with him. You seem to bear more of it than most."

One of his hands gripped the empty plate in front of him on the table. "_I_ know a lot of innocent people would've been dead if it hadn't be for Sam and me. And a lot of our ... _kind_."

"Just how many innocent people are dead _because_ of you?" Her head tilted to one side as she gave pause. "As for the rest of your lot? Believe me, they know what happened in that cemetery. How you allowed the gate of Hell itself to open, unleashing its misery on the world. How many have died as a result of your utter incompetence?"

"Lady, I swear, I'm gonna - "

"Dean."

The grip on the plate loosened as he looked to Ellen. He could tell by the expression on her face he didn't want to finish his sentence.

"These boys weren't alone," Ellen said, drawing Shanti's glare away from Dean. "If you want to fairly lay blame -" She motioned to herself. "- I was there, too. What happened, it couldn't have been avoided. They did what they had to do."

Shanti's features slightly softened as she leaned back in her chair, her attention shifting back to the Winchesters. Dean was still livid. The other, she couldn't quite sort his mood out.

"Your actions bring about such misery," she explained. "All hunters. Your collective attitude toward the beings in this world is ... childish, to say the least." She focused on Sam. "You fight, but do you even know _why_ the disharmony exists? Did any of you ever take a moment to even wonder?"

"We don't need to," Dean said, working harder than ever to control his rising anger. "The stuff we're fighting out there is evil. Evil doesn't need a reason to do what it does."

She shook her head, almost sadly. "Your comprehension of the universe is abysmally poor. But it isn't your fault. Or your colleagues'."

"Since you seem to be the expert, why don't you enlighten us?"

After a moment's hesitation, she simply replied, "You wouldn't understand. You're ignorant."

The plate Dean had clutched for the last few minutes flew across the kitchen and shattered against one of the aged cabinets as he jumped to his feet. "I've had it with your bullshit! I'm -"

Ellen stood up and pointed to the doorway. "Leave," she ordered.

Dean looked from the top of Shanti's head to Ellen, almost stunned. She was telling _him_ to leave? His hands balled into fists at his sides, so tightly his fingers had begun to go numb.

"Dean." Ellen's voice was so calm, it was unnerving. She nodded towards the doorway.

After giving Shanti one last glare, he left the kitchen.

"I'll be back," she said as she followed after him.

Once Ellen was gone, Sam turned in his chair. "Why do you _do_ that?"

Shanti looked at him. "I did nothing." Her fingers curled around the half-empty glass. "It's his own fault he's upset. He allowed it. He who loses control, loses."

"You could lay off of him, too."

"Lay off?" she repeated, her eyebrows arching. "I've only stated facts. How he chooses to react to them is his own concern."

"All we've tried to do is help you and you've given us nothing but grief."

"I never asked for your help. Whatever is happening, it's my problem." Her attention shifted back to the glass in her hands. "I'll get it sorted."

"You've been doing a _great_ job on your own so far, Doctor."

He couldn't stop himself from saying it. And in a sarcastic manner which would've made even Dean proud. He'd always had a higher – what Dean called – 'bullshit tolerance level' than most people. A single day with probably the most difficult person he'd ever met had nearly brought him to its peak.

Ellen reentered the kitchen before Shanti had the opportunity to reply. "He'll be fine in the morning," she said as she folded her arms over her chest. At least, she'd hoped he'd be. "I'm sure it's been a long day for you as well. I have plenty of extra rooms, if you want to call it a night."

Shanti rose to her feet. "I will." Without so much as a glance in Sam's direction, she left the kitchen.

"What about you?"

Sam's head lifted. "Oh, no. I ... had something I wanted to work on."

"Top of the stairs, last room on the right, whenever you are," she said as she pushed herself away from the doorway she'd been leaning against.

"Ellen?"

She stopped and turned. "What?"

"Thanks. For letting us stay here. I know how dangerous it is for you do to this."

"You really think I'd turn you out?" She smiled a little. "Besides, gives me a chance to put these new wards to the test."

"I guess so." He shifted his gaze to the mess on the floor. "I'll take care of that," he assured her.

"G'night, Sam." As she rounded the corner, Ellen came to an abrupt halt. Shanti stood in the main hall, a strange expression on her face. She appeared almost ... scared. "You okay, hon?" she gently asked as she placed a hand to one of the young woman's bare arms. She was surprised to discover her trembling.

She stepped away. "I ... I'm fine," she replied, barely above a whisper.

"People tend to shake for a reason."

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm quite all right. It's simply been a long day."

Ellen studied her for a moment then decided not to press the issue. "Well, if there's something wrong, you feel free to talk to me."

Shanti forced a smile. "I do appreciate you showing such courtesy to a stranger. I haven't met many Americans like you."

She lightly laughed. "I'm not usually this nice." She grinned when Shanti looked at her, almost incredulous. "If those boys are involved, the rules change." Her expression turned more somber. "You know, they never wanted to be mixed up with any of this. In fact, I'd reckon they'd be on different sides of the country, totally unaware of what's happening out there, if their mom hadn't been killed by that damn demon when they were kids. Bet you didn't know that about 'em, did you? Probably don't know they lost their father about a year or so back, either."

"No," she quietly admitted. She paused before she asked, "What ... what happened to him?"

"If you want the details, you should ask them." She placed a hand on Shanti's shoulder and guided her down the length of the main hall. "You can learn a lot about other people if you _talk_ to'em, instead of passing judgment." She stopped in front of the last door on the right side of the hall, then opened it to reveal a decent-sized room which seemed like it was already in use by someone else. "Jo set it up, for when she visits. Which ain't too often."

"Jo?" Shanti asked as she scanned the framed photos on the main dresser. She recognized Ellen, but in others a man and a young girl were present.

"My daughter." She tapped a finger on a picture of an older, pretty blonde girl. "She has her own thing these days. She wouldn't mind you stayin' here. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

"If you need anything, I'm across the hallway." She pointed to closed door directly across from Jo's room. "G'night, Dr. Patil."

"Ellen?" Shanti smiled when Ellen turned around. "You can just use my first name. I've never much liked people referring to me as 'Doctor'."

"G'night, Shanti." She closed the door behind her.

-

"Julia?"

Felton Howard cracked open the door to his daughter's bedroom. As usual, everything was organized and pristine. He'd never known any kid to be so clean. Then Julia wasn't like other children. She'd been so very different since that day.

Across the room, he saw the girl in her bed, the ruffly pink comforter pulled up to her chin. On the nightstand beside her, the animated lamp quietly turned, its soft light creating the illusion of angels gliding along the light pink walls.

She'd gone to bed on time and without any complaint, the baby-sitter was pleased to report when he'd returned home. Another thing unusual for most children ...

"Goodnight, Julia," he whispered then closed the door. Once it was shut, he let out a heavy sigh.

Earlier that morning, when he'd returned to the doctor's residence, which was totally destroyed, he'd panicked. He knew he hadn't done it and he prayed whoever did was successful. For his own sake.

He glanced at the wrapped knife still clutched in his left hand. He didn't even summon to the demon to attempt to lie about it. She probably would've known he'd not been responsible, why bother?

He sighed again as his head fell back against the wooden door. It'd been a long day. One which had bordered on surreal. He worked in a post office, for Christ's Sake. This kind of stuff was nowhere near the norm for him.

"Cute kid."

His head snapped up and he looked to the opposite end of the hall. A man he'd never seen before in his life emerged from the shadows.

A smile appeared on his face as he approached Felton. "I can see why you didn't want to lose her."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of a friend," the stranger casually replied as he came to a stop a few feet in front of him. "She was worried when you never summoned her."

Realizing exactly who this stranger was, Felton let the cloth fall away from the knife. He gripped it in both of his hands and brought it up. As he did, the stranger's eyes flashed a vile color of yellow.

"Stay away," he warned, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands.

The demon froze, his eyes never leaving the blade.

"What do you want from me?"

After a moment, the demon looked to the trembling human. "Personally? I want nothing from you. Since my associate is bound by rules which I am not, I play a liaison role when needed."

Felton swallowed. "That woman's dead. Her whole place is gone. Explosion. I did my part. You can tell your ... _associate_ to let me out of my deal. She promised."

Devious grin on his face, the demon clicked his tongue a few times. "How stupid do you think I am, human? You weren't responsible for that explosion."

Felton's face paled as his arms slowly began to lower.

"I _watched_ you. You did nothing." He dared to move closer. "The woman isn't dead, either. She left with someone else, and they've taken her to a place even I can't get into."

"No. I ..."

"Failed. My associate doesn't reward failure." He quickly snatched the knife from Felton's hands then took him by the throat with his own free one. "I'm to inform you your deal is still intact. You have less than three days left."

Tears spilled down the young man's cheeks. "Help me," he pleaded. "I know you can. I've heard things -"

"Shut up!" He effortlessly threw Felton onto the floor as he narrowed his yellowed eyes at the human. "Forget what you've heard. Remember what you know. Time ... is running out."

"Please." Felton's head bowed as his hopelessness weighed even heavier on him. "I'm begging you ..." When he received no response, he raised his head. The demon was gone. Along with the knife. And any chance he'd had to free himself.

-

End Chapter Five


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

-----------

Half-yawning, Sam ambled down the stairs. It'd been around three in the morning when he'd finally turned in. That made him the last one up, it seemed. As he entered the living room, he was greeted by Dean and half of his gun collection spread out on the coffee table and sofa.

"Was beginnin' to think you'd never get up," Dean commented as he glanced up from the 9MM he was carefully wiping down. "It's almost noon, little brother."

Sam looked around. "Where's Ellen?"

"Outside. She's reinforcing her wards. She swears something was intent on getting' in here last night." He finished with the handgun and placed it on the coffee table. "I think she's probably right."

He waited before his next question. "Where's Dr. Patil?"

Dean nodded towards the front door. "Out on the porch, doin' yoga or whatever New Age crap that is. Been out there most of the morning. Not that it bothers me." He picked up one of his shotguns. "She can sleep outside, for all I care."

Sam pulled back the curtain to one of the windows facing the front porch. He could see Shanti, still in her colorful clothing, seated cross-legged at the top of the steps, her gaze locked on the horizon directly in front of her. "She say anything?"

"No. And she's not goin' to, Sam." Dean looked over to him. "We're wastin' our time on her."

Ignoring Dean, Sam left the living room and headed outside.

The screen door's hinges squeaked and Shanti's eyes slowly opened. She heard someone step onto the equally creaky wooden planks of the porch itself. She knew whom it was before he even appeared beside her. Still, she made no indication she was aware.

As Sam moved forward, he caught sight of the slightly charred framed photo. It was the same one Shanti had with her at what was left of her house the day before. Except this time, he could actually see the picture itself.

Three young Indian children - two girls and one boy - were huddled close together and cheerfully smiled for the camera. One of the girls wore glasses, and she and the boy were dressed in more traditional Indian clothing. The oldest girl, however, seemed out of place, with her shoulder-length black hair, trendy jeans and a Union Jack t-shirt.

"I never said thank you," Shanti's quiet voice caught his attention. Her head tilted back until she looked Sam in in the eye. "For yesterday. I do apologize."

Sam didn't let his surprise show, even though he was amazed by how civil she suddenly conducted herself. "Why?" Off of her puzzled expression, he added, "It's just ... you were so adamant about not getting mixed up with us."

"It isn't by chance you were so persistent," she replied. Her head bowed as she looked away. "Meditation made something extremely clear." Her eyes met his again. "A greater force wants me to take action. For what reason and why, it remains to be seen." She saw he was still confused after her explanation. "It would be best to accept the apology. I _am_ terribly sorry."

"I should say the same thing."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "_You_?"

"We ... I mean, _I_ was pushy with Dean about coming to you," he answered. He looked away, his gaze settling on the dirt gathered on the bottom porch step. "And I made assumptions about you I shouldn't have. Whatever your reasons for wanting your privacy, they're yours." He shifted uncomfortably when she only continued to gaze at him. "Well ... I'm sorry I bothered you." He glanced at the photo again before he turned to go inside.

"They're my brother and sister," she said. Taking the picture in both hands, she rose to her feet. When Sam turned around, she faced the photo towards him, so he could see it. "My older sister, Leila. And my younger brother, Anil."

He looked from the picture to her. "Are they still in London?"

Her brow furrowed. "London? What do you -" Then she realized and smiled a little. "Manchester, that's where I'm from. A completely different part of the country. Hyde, more specifically. It's farther north of London."

"Oh, I -"

She shook her head. "It's all right. You certainly are not the first to assume so. I shouldn't expect Americans to know a Northern accent from half a dozen different London ones," she assured him. "Still have a time of it understanding you people, even after seven years."

He couldn't get over how much she'd changed overnight. Not like it bothered him, but he wondered what exactly had happened. It had to be more than simple 'meditation', like she'd claimed. "So, they're in ... Manchester? Hyde, I mean?"

"No." Shanti's faint smile faded and she shook her head. "They're both ... dead."

"I'm sorry."

She casually shrugged. "It was quite some time ago. Both of them."

"What happened?" He saw her expression change. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," he quickly added.

She gazed upon the photo. It was the only one the three of them had ever taken together. As Sam had noticed about them, Leila seemed so out of place despite her obvious relation to herself and Anil.

"While we were on holiday in London, Anil was struck and killed by a motor," she softly replied. Her thumb brushed over the young boy's face. "Thankfully, it was instant." She wiped away a tear before it had the chance to fall. "Was nearly 20 years ago, but ... it feels as though it was yesterday." She looked to Sam. "Probably best it was so quick."

He frowned. She'd said the last part in such a strange way. Almost like it didn't upset her. "Was your sister -"

"No," she cut in. Her expression changed just as fast as her tone of voice. She spoke more coolly than she had about her brother. "She ... died five years later, almost to the day."

Sam waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he felt awkward. He had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, he didn't have to.

She folded her arms across her chest, hugging the photo close. Her gaze shifted away from Sam to Ellen who had appeared to her left, to examine one of the worn wooden posts a few hundred yards away from the house.

"What do you plan to do with me?" she asked. "You don't expect me to stay here forever, do you?" She looked to him. "I overheard what you said to Ellen last night. About how dangerous it is for you to even be here."

"If you tell us what's going on, then Dean and I will be able to help you. After that, you'll never see us again. I promise."

Her head tilted, a curious look on her face. "You've no interest what I know, then?"

Sam shrugged. "I won't lie, I do. I'm not going to force it out of you, though. I'll keep searching for the answer elsewhere. I can't give up on this. I won't."

"Well, good mornin'." Ellen's voice made the both of them turn. She'd stopped at the foot of the porch steps, smiling. "Or maybe I should say 'good afternoon' in your case?" she added as she focused on Sam. "What were you doin' all night?"

"Research."

"Mmm-hmm." She ascended the stairs then looked to Shanti. "Didn't want to interrupt you while you were ... meditating, but I found a few clothes of Jo's in a closet earlier." She gestured to the colorful dress. "If you wanna get out of that frock."

Shanti glanced down at herself. "Yes, that would be fantastic. Never did feel comfortable in this." She smoothed a hand over the skirt.

"You said it was important?"

She looked to Ellen. "Yes. It's ... well, it's a wedding dress, actually." She flushed with embarrassment. "Haven't the slightest of why I even kept it. Hardly think it'll have any official use."

Ellen smiled as she patted the woman on her shoulder. "You're young yet. You never know."

"I wouldn't be so sure," she murmured.

"Come on. Let's see what things of Jo's you're able to wear."

Back inside, Dean glanced up from his work as Ellen, an arm draped around Shanti's shoulders, passed by the doorway. He heard the screen door fall shut then Sam came to a stop there.

"You were out there a while," he commented as he focused on the last of his shotguns. "You feelin' masochistic or what?" When Sam didn't answer, he lifted his head again. His brother just stared down the main hallway. "Hey." He snapped his fingers.

Sam blinked then looked into the living room. "What?"

Dean shook his head, almost sadly.

"What?" Sam asked again as he approached him. "What's with the head shaking?"

He humorlessly chuckled as he shook his head again. "Dunno why I'm surprised. You always end up too involved." He wiped the cloth down the length of the shotgun barrel. "Now this." He glanced at him before adding, "She's too old for you, Sam."

"_What?_"

"I shoulda figured it out sooner." He rested the butt of the gun on the floor as he focused his attention on Sam. "Why you were so gung-ho about helping her."

"Whatever you think my interest is in her, you're wrong. Okay?"

"Don't need to think it, I _know_ you. How you get around these smart chicks." His fingers drummed against the barrel as he studied Sam, who only stared at him, not amused. "I'm just wonderin' how you managed to get over what a bitch she is." He shrugged. "I guess that's your special talent, though."

Waving a dismissive hand at Dean, Sam left the living room.

Once he was gone, Dean's smile slowly faded. He would miss that more than anything else in life. More than the booze, more than music that didn't suck, maybe even more than women, or a million other things he'd taken for granted over the years.

It was just so damn easy - and so much _fun_ - to irritate the shit out of his little brother.

-

"Daddy?"

Felton Howard raised his head from the kitchen table when he heard his daughter's voice. He'd been in the middle of preparing dinner when he was overwhelmed by his own depression.

Since the other demon had vanished, he couldn't stop thinking about the little time he had left. And what he could possibly do to ensure Julia would be all right. He had nowhere to turn. He couldn't run, he couldn't hide, he'd blown his only chance at freedom. It was hopeless.

Julia stood beside him, a piece of paper clutched in her hands, and she looked at him, almost curious. "Do you feel okay?" she asked. She placed one of her palms to his forehead. "You don't have a fever."

He managed to smile as he took her small hand in one of his. "I'm not sick," he assured her. He nodded to the paper. "What's that?"

"Something I made for you." She place the paper on the table.

He pulled it closer. As he suspected, it was the same picture she'd drawn, with a steadily improving artistic level, for nearly five years. It was a simple image – a bright yellow light surrounded a single, dark faceless figure. At first, he'd found it disturbing. Later, though, it became ... comforting.

"It's my dream." She looked from the picture to her father. "The lady is always there. Do you think it's really Mom?"

He stroked her hair as he regarded her. He used every ounce of willpower to not break down in front of her. Things were hard enough for Julia, she didn't need to see him fall apart. "Yes, I do."

She shifted her gaze to the picture, a familiar sadness crossing her features. "Do you think it's real? The light place?"

He tucked a lock of her hair over her ear. "It could be."

One of her fingers traced the outline of the human figure. "When I dream about it ... it _feels_ real."

He nodded, the lump in his throat grew and the tears began to sting his eyes. "You've said that before."

"It's nice there." She slid the picture closer to her father, her head tilted to one side as she continued to study it. "I like to go to sleep at night. That's when I get to go back." Her voice turned distant. "It's like I belong there."

A single tear rolled down his face. "You belong with me. Don't you want to be here with me, honey?"

"You're there, too, Daddy." She lifted her head and looked at him. She frowned. "Why are you crying?"

He stroked the top of her head, trying to smile through his pain. "Because I love you, very much."

"I love you, too."

Both of his hands rested on her small shoulders and he leaned towards her. "I need to talk to you. A big girl kind of talk."

She nodded. "About what?"

"About the future." He searched her eyes. As usual, he couldn't find it. The spark she used to have when she was younger, before ... It was eerie. Even after all of these years. "Julia ... I have to go away soon."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Another trip, like yesterday?"

He shook his head. "No, not like a trip." He saw the confusion on her face. "I don't know when I'll see you again. It might be a while."

"Do you have to go?"

He sniffled. "Yes."

She looked down at the floor for a moment before she brightly smiled at him. "I can come with you."

"No." He bowed his head, biting his lip as though it would keep him from losing control. "I have to go alone."

"Why?"

He heaved a sigh. "Because of something I did, a long time ago."

"Was it bad?"

"No, it wasn't." He finally looked her in the eyes again. How did he explain to her why he had to leave? Would she understand? "I just have to go, Julia. Don't ask any more questions about it."

"All right." She frowned again. "Are you going to be okay?"

He managed a small smile as he placed a hand to one of her cheeks. "As long as I know you're going to be fine, yes." He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "That's all that matters to me."

She put her arms around him as she let her head rest on his shoulder. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

Tears flowed more freely now. "I'll miss you, too." He closed his eyes as he held her even tighter. "I'll miss you so much."

-

Ellen stopped at the door to Jo's room, where her guest had spent the entirety of the afternoon. She'd said she'd needed to do some thinking, which Ellen could understand. She'd been through a lot in a very short amount of time.

According to Sam, she acted even stranger than usual earlier when he'd spoken to her. Despite Ellen's offer to listen, Shanti refused to discuss anything with her.

She knocked on the door. "Shanti?"

"You can come in," was the reply from the other side of the door.

When Ellen stepped inside, she was surprised to find Shanti packing up her things. "Are you goin' somewhere?"

Shanti glanced over her shoulder, then focused on tucking the last of her salvaged texts into the old duffel. "I'm free to leave, aren't I?"

"Well, sure, but - "

She tightened the cord on the bag and turned around. "Then I should leave. It's best for everyone that I do." She paused. "I'd rather not put you in danger, especially when you never wanted any part of my problem."

Ellen closed the door. "You know who's after you, don't you?"

"And if I do?"

"Tell us who it is and we might be able to help."

"You can't." She sighed as she pushed her glasses up her nose. "It's a personal matter. One I would prefer to keep that way. If I leave here, you won't be in any further danger. At least, from me," she added.

As Shanti picked up the duffel, Ellen matter-of-factly stated, "If you walk out of here, you're dead."

"If that's what's meant to happen, it will. I've managed to survive through many things, Ellen, for a reason. As there is a reason why everything in the last few days has happened. I understand that now." Her gaze shifted to the photos on Jo's dresser. "Whatever I'm destined to accomplish, I won't discover it here, locked away behind wards and fear."

Ellen nodded. "Fair enough. But don't go out there alone."

She shook her head. "I've made my decision. You can either accept it or don't."

The older woman heavily sighed. "Well, I don't have any say in what you do. You aren't my daughter, I can't stop you." She met Shanti's gaze. "Though, I can't say the same for Sam."

"I appreciate his concern, but he won't stop me." She picked up the bag again.

A small smile crept to Ellen's face. "You plan to go on foot?"

"If I must."

Ellen approached her. "If you're gonna go, I'm not letting you walk. I have an old pick-up which ain't of any use to me. You'd be doing me a favor if you'd take it offa my hands."

"Thank you." She only managed a few steps before Ellen's voice stopped her.

"Before you go ... there's one thing I've been wonderin' since I met you." She stared at Shanti's back for a few seconds before she continued. "I know why I'm involved, why I do what I do. Same for those boys and almost every person, hunter or not, mixed up in our way of life. I'm just curious - why is it _you're_ here? What put you on _your_ path?"

Shanti's head lifted and she sighed softly before she looked over her shoulder. "I mean no offense when I say this, but it's not your business."

-

Sam heard one of the doors down the hallway shut. Not long afterwards Ellen and Shanti, with a full duffel bag over a shoulder, appeared in the doorway between the main hall and the living room. He glanced at Dean, who didn't seem concerned with it. He simply went back to sifting through a few papers Ellen had given him.

"What's going on?" he asked as he joined the two of them.

"She's leaving," Ellen answered.

"Leaving? Where are you going to go?"

"I'll know when I arrive," Shanti quietly replied, avoiding eye contact with him.

He looked back to Ellen. "And you're just _letting_ her?"

"She's free to do what she wants, Sam."

"Thank you again, Ellen, for all of your help," Shanti said as she held out a hand to the other woman. "I won't forget your kindness."

"You're welcome to stay longer," Ellen assured her as she let go of Shanti's hand.

"I can't."

"Well ... _bye_," Dean called out from the other side of the living room. He didn't even glance up from the coffee table.

Shanti's lips pursed as she tightened her grip on the duffel. "Good-bye." She ignored the look from Sam as she headed toward the front door.

"What, are you walking?" Sam asked as he watched her leave the house.

"No. I gave her an old truck of mine," Ellen said. She raised an eyebrow when Sam shifted his attention to her, a strange expression on his face. "She doesn't want anyone else involved in whatever's going on, Sam. You might not like it, but you should respect her wishes."

"Ellen's right," Dean agreed. "We offered to help her, she made it clear she doesn't want it. Let her go. She gets killed, it's not our problem. We're off the hook."

The sound of the truck engine turning over kept him from saying something to Dean. Soon, the sound faded as the truck drove away from the house. He faced Ellen again. "You know what'll happen to her."

"I know." She almost said something else as Sam headed for the stairs, but decided against it. She watched him ascend the steps then looked to Dean. "What about you?"

Dean shrugged. "What do I care?" He sat back on the couch. "Frankly, I'm glad she's gone. Maybe Sam'll get this stupid idea outta his head and we can get some work done." He noticed the way she stared at him. "What?"

"Can't figure how wanting to save the life of the only family he's got left is a stupid idea," she flatly replied. "If I recall correctly, you had a similar idea. Though your solution really _was_ stupid."

He looked away, frowning. How much longer was he going to get this bullshit? Wasn't it enough he had an eternity in hell to look forward to for what he'd done? Did they _have_ to keep telling him how stupid he'd been? Like he didn't already know.

What else could he have done? He definitely wasn't taking a page from the wacky Hinduism book and leaving Sam dead. None of them could understand - not Bobby, not Ellen, not even Sam himself. There was no point in living if he was all alone.

"D'you think any of these jobs'll pan out?" he quietly asked, changing the subject. He waved to the papers in front of him. "We have to do what we can before we're out of time."

Ellen's face softened as she approached him. "I'm sure one or two of'em will."

"Good. The quicker we move on, the better."

"For whom?"

Dean looked at her, but didn't respond. He wanted to say it was for Sam's own good, but he knew it wasn't entirely true. The less he dwelt on the inevitable, the easier it was to deal with. If only Sam would do the same. Their lives would be a hell of a lot better over the next 11 months.

-

End Chapter Six


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

-------------

"Blast!"

Shanti sighed as she let the bonnet of the vehicle drop shut. The smoke continued to pour through the grill as she turned around. She wiped the back of a filthy hand over her sweat-laden forehead while her eyes scanned the horizon. Here she was, in the middle of nowhere, as night fast approached and her transportation in a sorry state. Was this part of what she had to go through to find her answers?

She slid her gaze to her left. No one. During the entire hour she'd driven on this stretch of motorway she'd seen _one_ other car. It was almost as though she were on another planet. Mars or Earth, it would appear she would walk the rest of the way.

After she stowed her duffel underneath the front seat the best she could, she slammed the driver's side cab door shut. She glanced in each direction, as she pondered on which way to go. If she chose to go back, she would be where she didn't want. And she had the distinct feeling if she did return, the younger Winchester wouldn't allow her to leave again.

Her head swiveled and she stared down the road in the opposite direction. Several kilometers prior to her breakdown, she'd noticed a battered roadside advert for a diner of sorts. She'd paid little attention to the details, she only recalled it was that way. At least there she would be able to find a telephone, as well as a place to wait until a recovery service arrived. It was better than out in the open.

Her destination decided, she headed in the direction she'd been traveling already.

-

The door to the broken down roadhouse creaked open and a young man entered. His arrival seemed to go unnoticed by the majority of the patrons as he made his way to the bar. An old country tune drifted from the classic-styled jukebox. As he came to a stop beside it, the man drummed his fingers against the glass, which caused the other behind the counter to raise his head.

Recognizing the young man as brethren, he waved the newcomer over. When the man was close enough, the bartender asked, "What is it?"

After a careful survey of the two men already at the bar, the younger man leaned over and spoke in a low tone in the barman's ear.

The barman's eyebrows lifted in interest as he listened. As the man stepped back, he looked at him. "How long ago was this?"

"About an hour."

"You're _sure_ she's headed this way?"

A nod. "Absolutely."

A smile crossed the barman's lips. "I'll let him know." He patted the young man's shoulder. "Keep an eye on her. Make sure she gets here. Do you understand? No one touches her. I mean _no one_."

"Of course." With a very slight bow of the head - he'd barely remembered to _not_ bow fully - the young man turned and left.

Once he was gone, the barman headed for a closed door at the other end of his counter. After a light knock, a male voice replied, "Come."

He opened the door a crack and leaned inside. "She's in the open," he reported. "And she's headed this way."

The dark-haired man seated at the table, an array of strange symbols scrawled in blood around the circumference of it, turned in his chair, a devious smile on his face. Still in the same body, the liaison of the crossroads demon lightly chuckled. "Some luck we're having, huh? She couldn't have planned it better."

The bartender's eyes washed over black as he wryly grinned. "It's nearly perfect."

Chuckling again, the elder demon leaned back in his chair. "I suppose I ought to let _her_ know, then, hmm?" His own grin widened, almost in a sadistic manner.

-

Slumped down in the passenger's seat, Sam stared out of his window. He couldn't see much of what was outside, though, considering it was dark and had been since they'd left Ellen's about an hour before. Not like there was much of anything to look at – just endless flat.

He wondered where the doctor had gone. From what Ellen said, Shanti had no clue about it herself. To just get in a truck and drive with no particular destination? It didn't make sense. Then again, hardly anything about her made sense.

"Are you gonna talk to me any time soon?" Dean's voice drew him out of his thoughts. "You're gonna have to when we get to this job."

Sam glanced at him. "You think I'm mad at you?"

He shrugged. "You haven't said more than three sentences to me since that chick left. What am I supposed to think?"

"Why would I be mad at _you_?"

Dean sighed heavily. "I have no idea. Who knows what goes on in that head of yours most of the time? I sure as hell don't."

"That's funny, because I wonder the same thing about you."

He lifted an eyebrow. "So _that's_ what it's about?" Shaking his head, he went on. "I keep tellin' you, what happens to me doesn't matter."

Sam pushed himself up in the seat as he turned to him. "And I keep telling _you_, it does to _me_. I meant what I said, Dean. I'm finding a way to get you out of this."

Dean gripped the wheel. "Did you ever consider the possibility she doesn't know anything?" He looked at Sam for a moment, then added, "Maybe that's why she's never told anyone anything – there's nothin' to tell."

"I don't believe that."

"We've been in the business how long? Look at how deep Dad was into it. Did he ever mention any way out of something like this? No. She can't help me, Sam. Just like the rest of those so-called 'experts' you've contacted over the last few weeks couldn't help."

"None of them were theologists, either, Dean. Definitely not Dad," he added in a murmur, his gaze shifting back to the window.

"He didn't _need_ to be. We've read the same books he did. Probably the exact same ones _she_ did. What was in'em? Not a goddamn thing." He shook his head. "Havin' a PhD doesn't change it."

"How do you explain what's been going on, then? She did have a point – this stuff didn't start until _we_ showed up at her house." He looked over to Dean again. "You don't think that's odd?"

"You're takin' her side? We're the cause of her misery, us and our bad karma?" Dean scoffed. "I don't buy into all of that karma crap. Whatever's going on, it's _her_ problem. And that's the only thing she's said I've agreed with."

Shaking his head, Sam shifted his gaze back to the window. A few seconds after he did, he startled Dean by exclaiming, "_Stop the car!_"

Dean looked over to him. Sam was turned completely around in the front seat, looking out of the rear window. "What's going - "

"Just do it! Go back!"

Instead of arguing, Dean did as Sam instructed and made a U-turn in the middle of the dark two-lane highway. "What're we goin' back for?" he asked. No more than he'd said it, he had his answer. Parked at the side of the road was the old pickup Ellen'd given the doctor. He'd barely pulled up behind it and stopped when Sam jumped out of the car.

"Sam!" He threw it into Park and killed the engine, but left the lights on, in order to be able to see. "Sam?" he asked as he got out of the car himself. Just ahead, Sam already had the driver's side door of the cab open.

"She's not here." Sam pulled the old duffel from the cab and placed it onto the ground. "She left everything behind."

"Is that all?" Dean moved to the passenger's side and opened its door. Besides being rather broken down, nothing seemed out of place. He searched for anything which might indicate something had ... happened to her. No blood. Nothing to suggest a struggle.

"What do you think happened?" Sam wondered as Dean slammed the door and moved to the front end.

"I don't know." He placed a hand on the hood. It was cold. "But it happened long before we got here." Smelling something strange, he popped it.

Sam joined him at the front of the pickup. He glanced from Dean's arm, which was jammed somewhere between parts of the engine, to Dean himself. "What is it?"

"Well ..." Dean paused as he continued to feel around, then he shook his head. "Yeah. That's what I thought." He looked to Sam. "Radiator's shot." He pulled his hand out and wiped the grime onto the arm of Sam's coat. "Engine overheated."

"Where did she go, then?"

Dean dropped the hood down and scanned the dark horizon. "There's a regular roadhouse not too far up the highway." He jerked a thumb in the direction they'd already been traveling. "Could've gone there."

"You think?"

He shrugged. "If she'd went the other way, we would've seen her."

"Maybe," Sam murmured, not so sure. He looked at her duffel on the ground beside him. "Why would she leave all of this behind?"

"If I remember, it wasn't exactly light for her." Dean saw the expression on his brother's face. A hand patted Sam's shoulder. When Sam looked at him, he added, "We're headed that way. If we don't see her, we'll stop and ask if they have."

As they headed back to the car, Sam lugging Shanti's bag along with him, he continued. "I'm sure she's fine. I really feel sorry for anyone or anything she might bump into – demon or not." When Sam didn't reply, Dean left it alone.

While he'd always been sort of fascinated by Sam's ability to give a damn about even the most annoying of people, it brought on a lot of trouble they could've avoided. Like now.

Until he knew that woman was okay, Sam's head wouldn't be in the game and his mind not on the job. When he wasn't in the zone, that's when shit happened. The kind which started the whole mess they were in where Dean himself was concerned. The kind he wouldn't let happen again.

-

"Sorry, could I trouble you for the time?"

The bartender paused in wiping down his counter to check his watch. "Ten minutes later than the last time you asked," he replied. He moved to her end of the bar, then smiled a little. "Look, it's not unusual for Charlie to take this long."

"It's been over an hour," Shanti muttered as she pushed her empty glass over to him.

"It's almost 9 o'clock on a Friday night, too. You probably dragged him away from a poker game. Where there's a poker game, there's gonna be beer." He raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't want him drivin' under the influence, would you?"

She rolled her eyes. "This is unacceptable," she sighed. "We've prompt recovery services in England. They take pride in their work and wouldn't get pissed when on the job, either."

The man chuckled. "Well, you ain't in England, lady. You call a tow truck at a time like this around here? You're lucky if you see him before Monday."

Her eyes widened. "Are you mad? Two bloody days?!" Once he nodded, she sighed again. "I can't possibly wait that long. I haven't a place to stay for the night, let alone two more days."

The bartender pointed to a booth on the other side of the room. "See the lady in the black jacket?" He waited until Shanti spotted the blonde. "She has a place not far from here. Put a body up for a night or two. For a price."

"I haven't any money."

He smiled. "I'm sure she'll take pounds or Euros or whatever it is you use."

Her eyes narrowed. "I mean, I have no money at all."

Placing the glass under the counter, he shrugged. "I'm sure she'll work something out. Hey, Susan!"

The blonde woman turned in her chair. "Yeah?"

"This young lady needs a place to stay for a night. Maybe two," he added, motioning to Shanti.

Smiling, Susan approached the counter. "She does, huh?" She gave Shanti the once over. "Well, I have some space."

"As I explained to him, I haven't any money," Shanti quickly interjected.

Susan glanced at the bartender. "I can tell you're a long way from home, so why don't we consider it a gift?" Her smile widened a bit. "How's that?"

"I appreciate the offer, but there's no need to -"

She seized Shanti by the arm and forcefully led her towards the back exit of the roadhouse. "It's fine, darling," she assured her as they stepped outside. "Don't you worry about a thing."

"As I said, I do appreciate the offer, but it wouldn't be proper - " She stopped when the other woman faced her. She instinctively stepped back when she saw the blonde's eyes were a familiar red now. "Who ... are you?"

Grinning wickedly, the demon seized her by the upper arms then pulled her closer. "You don't remember me, luv?" she purred, mocking the accent. "Perhaps we should have a little chat with dear Leila? I know _she_ hasn't forgotten me."

Shanti's eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. "_You_," she breathed. She shook her head. "How ... how are you here? You lot are bound to the crossroads'."

She raised a hand, allowing the jacket sleeve to pull back enough to reveal a strange array scrawled in blood on her forearm. "Pays to have lackeys in the upper echelon. It's temporary, but I don't plan on taking too long to show you my own appreciation for all of your hard work."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head again. "No, this can't be the reason. It can't. So many years, wasted. For what? This can't be it ... "

Grin even more sadistic, the demon drew the human closer. "Let's have some fun before I kill you, hmm?"

-

"Right there." Sam pointed to the building situated on his side of the road. It wasn't alone. A few two-story farmhouses, all abandoned, were farther down the road running behind it. Seemed like an eerie spot to have a place like this, but eerie was normal for everything in the lives of the Winchesters.

"I see it." Dean pulled into the patch of packed dirt which served as the parking lot. He'd barely killed the engine before Sam was gone. He'd only been screwing with Sam earlier, but Dean was beginning to suspect maybe Sam _did_ have a thing for the chick. He was way too wrapped up in her.

When Dean finally entered the establishment, Sam met him at the door. "No one's seen her."

"That was fast work." He scanned the people in the place. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, yet something was decidedly "off" about them. And the place in general. He looked to Sam. "What do you want to do?"

Sam considered it. If no one there saw her, she either didn't stop or never made it this far. Or every single person had lied to him. Still, it was roughly twelve miles between the roadhouse and where the pickup had broken down. That was a lengthy walk for almost anyone.

"Sam ..." Dean quietly said, getting his attention. "If she's not here, it doesn't do us any good to stay." Mostly, he wanted to get the hell out of there. He'd figured out what vibe the joint set off inside of him. It felt like something he'd experienced twice before. It felt almost like _death_. "C'mon. Let's go."

As they left, the bartender leaned against his counter, watching the door fall shut behind them.

"Where could she've gone?" Sam wondered as they headed back to the car. "There weren't any other places between here and the truck. People don't vanish into thin air."

"Sam ..."

"You guys lookin' for somebody?" The two turned when someone spoke. A dark-haired man, dressed similarly to any other person around the area, leaned against the front wall of the roadhouse. His head raised and two very clear blue eyes focused on the Winchesters. "Indian woman, kinda pretty? English accent?"

Sam nodded. "Where'd you see her?"

He jerked a thumb behind him. "Out back, with a blonde woman. They didn't appear to be friends. At least, not to me."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

"You know which way they went?" Dean asked.

"To the first house on the right, over there." He pointed to the dirt road which lead away from the main highway, to the abandoned structures farther south. "Wasn't more than 20 or 30 minutes ago."

They both turned, but only briefly. Yet, when they looked back to the stranger, he was gone.

"Where the hell'd he go?" Dean asked as he did a full 360, searching. He heard the trunk of the Impala creak open. Sam began to collect weapons and supplies. "What are you doing?" He came to a stop a few feet short of the car.

"Going to check out that house," he simply replied. He tossed one of the shotguns to Dean.

"Did you forget that guy just disappeared? You don't find it a little bit _weird_?"

Sam slammed the trunk shut. "Why do you think I'm getting this stuff?"

"Look, we have no idea what we're walking into," he said as Sam started for the dirt road. He sprinted forward then fell into step beside him. "It's possible this is a set-up. You're aware of that, right? Sam?" he prompted when his brother didn't seem to hear him.

"We'll have to chance it," he stated.

"And if it _is_? What, then? What if I can't handle it?"

Sam frowned. "I'm not eight years old anymore. I can take care of myself."

"Like you were able to a month ago?" Frustrated, he grabbed Sam's arm and forced him to a stop. "Just like then?" His grip tightened, as though he was afraid to let go. "If something happens, I can't bring you back again."

Sam shoved his hand off as he, without really thinking, snapped, "Yeah, well, I never asked you to do it the first time, Dean." For a moment, he felt awful, with the look Dean wore, one of half-disbelief and half-hurt. But it only lasted a moment. His own features hardened. "Whatever happens, happens." He brushed by Dean, never even glancing at him. "Come on."

-

End Chapter Seven


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

-------------

"Are you in pain, dear?"

Shanti's head wearily lifted and she squinted, attempting to focus on the blurry female figure in front of her. She'd lost her glasses somewhere not long after the demon brought her into the abandoned farmhouse. It was difficult to make out anything in the weak glow of the lamplight, at any rate.

"I want to know how much it hurts." A smile spread across her face as she squatted down in front of the woman, who was bound to a simple wooden chair. Her hands rested on Shanti's knees. "Pain is so different here than it is in Hell," she thoughtfully continued. "There's just something about inflicting damage on a physical body ... it's more ..._ pure _somehow."

Sweat mixed with the blood of a minor gash near her hairline dripped onto the hands of the demon's host. Behind her, Shanti's wrists burned as she wriggled against the ropes. "Nothing about you is pure now," she hoarsely whispered.

"Really? Is that so?" She regarded the symbol which dangled from the chain around the human's neck then she pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. "It's always strange to see something other than a cross on one of you humans." Her head tilted to one side as she studied the design. "I tend to deal with God-fearing Christian folk. Still, I must say, it's even stranger when I actually meet up with one of your kind." She let go of it. "Our services aren't in high demand among you people."

"That must bother you, right?" Shanti weakly smiled. "To know there are humans _somewhere_ who won't be tempted by your lies and false miracles?"

"Not particularly," she casually replied with a shrug. "After all, there are so many others who fall prey to what I have to offer them." She grinned as she leaned closer. "I'm surprised you haven't asked how poor Leila is. Fifteen years is a _very_ long time in Hell, even for someone like her."

Shanti's eyes narrowed. Her arms worked even harder against the ropes.

Sharp nails scrapped down the length of the bound woman's neck. "She's so ... _interesting_. One of the most interesting souls I've collected yet. Rude, however." She frowned. "Curses me whenever I take the time to pay her a visit. Fine thanks for what I did for little Anil."

"You've done nothing but bring misery to everyone you've come into contact with," Shanti muttered. She felt the rope around her right wrist loosen.

"Me?" The demon innocently batted her eyelashes. "I thought you believed you create your own misery?" She rose up as she leaned closer to Shanti. "Look at you, for example ... " She gave her a once over, shaking her head almost sadly. "So many years later, you're cut off from the world, from your own family, living your life in your pointless research. She will _never_ leave Hell, no matter how hard you try to make it so."

The rope loosened a little more. "You'd like to believe that."

"I _know_ that," she whispered in Shanti's ear. She drew back and looked the woman in the eye. "I've had this job for well over a thousand years, human. Some may have weaseled out of a contract or two over the centuries, but none ... none have _ever_ escaped Hell. At least, not on my watch." She snorted. "And do they ever give me any recognition for my hard work? Or any of my fellow so-called 'crossroads demons'? No." She smiled. "But that's going to change. Soon."

"How do you plan to do such a thing?"

A devious smile appeared on her face as she sat back on her heels. "Seeing as how you won't be around long enough to _tell_ anyone ... why the hell not?" An eyebrow raised. "I'm going to take Hell over, by force."

"Oh? You and what army? Crossroads demons, such as yourself?" She shook her head. "You wouldn't last five bloody minutes against the higher orders of demons. They'll never allow it. It's impossible to go against them in a war. You know that, don't you?"

"Perhaps for _my_ kind, but not for _yours_," she replied, her smiling becoming more wicked. She saw the look on the woman's face change as she understood what she meant. "Why do you think I've been so busy the past few decades? Biding my time. Waiting. Then the opportunity dropped into my lap, complete with the perfect soul to make it all happen." She smirked. "Hell is in utter chaos since the Gate. It's as though this was meant to be."

"_That's_ why you're so desperate for Dean Winchester's soul?" She frowned as the demon nodded. "What makes you believe he'd do anything to help you? He's many things, but I can't imagine he's daft enough agree to it."

The demon licked her lips as she raised herself up on her knees, her expression turning even darker as she grinned wider. "Oh, he'll do it, all right. I've made quite sure of it."

"How?"

She shook her head. "No, I believe you've heard enough." She rose up to her feet as she tilted her head to one side. "I'm bored of chatting. I want to go back to the real fun." She lightly dragged her nails down the human's cheek. "Don't you?"

Shanti's head tilted to one side, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I pity you."

The demon laughed. "_Pity _me? Why would a weak human such as you have pity for me?"

"At one time, you were a beautiful being, one at peace with the whole of the universe." The expression melted to one of disgust. "Until you let selfishness corrupt you, just like the rest of your kind in that realm you call 'Hell'." She shook her head. "It's rather sad, and I do feel pity for you, asura."

Angered, the demon violently backhanded her, then seized the dazed woman's face by the chin. "I don't need your goddamn pity," she hissed.

"Yes, you do." She lifted her gaze to the demon, whose eyes had gone the ghastly yellow once more. "You never know – you may prefer the same fate that befell your sister."

Her eyes went wide as she backpedaled away. "You _did_ do something to her!"

Shanti smiled, despite the pain in her jaw. "I did nothing to her," she quietly replied. "I merely reminded her of what she used to be." The rope finally released her right arm. "She decided to abandon her selfish and sinful path and return to where she belongs."

"No. She would've _never_ -"

"Are you frightened of me?" Shanti nodded to the large amount of space between them. "Why are you so far away?"

The demon's eyes narrowed to slits. "After I kill you, I'll make sure you suffer the worst agony I can possibly summon."

"No, you won't. That's why you haven't done so, asura." Her smile broadened. "You have absolutely no claim over my soul on the next plane, or beyond."

Hands balled into fists, the demon's human host body trembled with rage. "You'll _beg_ me for your death before I'm through." She raised her open hands, fingers crooked into claws, as she advanced towards her prey.

When the demon was close enough, Shanti grabbed the chair with both hands and whirled it around. More out of surprise than hurt, the demon spun in almost a complete circle before she collapsed hard onto the wooden floor. A hand touched her human face. As she withdrew it, she saw blood. At the same time, she noticed the symbol scrawled on her arm had begun to fade.

"No,_ not now_!" she growled. Her head whipped around as the front door to the house was practically kicked off of its hinges. "Shit," she breathed when both of the Winchesters, heavily armed, entered. After casting a glance at Shanti, she scrambled to her feet and bolted for an adjacent room.

"Sam, she's here!" Dean called over his shoulder as he ran past Shanti, hoping he'd catch the blonde before she escaped.

Slowly, Sam approached the doctor, who still had one of her arms tied to a partially broken chair. Once he made certain no surprises waited in the room for him, he placed his gun on the floor once he reached her. "Doctor?"

Her trembling fingers pried at the knot in the rope. She angrily muttered in a foreign language.

Sam didn't need to ask if she was okay. Whatever had happened before they'd arrived had severely shaken her. "Here ... let me help you -"

"No!" She slapped his hands away before he could touch her arm. "Leave me to it!" When she was unable to free herself, she finally broke down into uncontrollable tears.

Sam gently used his blade to cut the rope and release her arm from the chair. Once she was loose, he was surprised when she fell against him, her sobs muffled by his jacket. Hesitantly, a hand rested on the upper portion of her back. "It's going to be all right," he assured her.

"Hey, Sam -" Dean came to an abrupt halt as he reentered the room. The scene before him had been more than he'd expected. His brother had both arms around the crying woman as he softly spoke to her with words Dean couldn't quite hear. His lips pressed together then he moved towards them. "Sam," he said, louder this time.

He raised his head when he heard Dean say his name. "She's gone?"

"Gone? Almost like she disappeared." His jaw tightened a bit then he nodded toward Shanti. "She okay?"

"I'm not sure," he said with a shrug. "We need to get back to Ellen's."

"Yeah," Dean murmured as he shifted his gaze to Shanti, who was now clinging to Sam. "Guess so."

-

Ellen stepped out of the living room to join Sam and Dean in the main hall. "She'll be okay physically but she's rattled," she softly reported. She glanced over her shoulder. Shanti sat on the sofa, with her chin rested on her knees, and the fingers of one hand toyed with two bright, woven bracelets around the wrist of the other. "She didn't say anything on the way back?"

"She's been semi-catatonic since we found her," Sam replied.

"And you didn't get a good look at the woman?"

Dean shook his head. "Bitch was fast. Gone within a matter of seconds."

Ellen frowned. "You thinkin' demon-possessed human?"

"Figure it's safe to assume so," he answered with a shrug. "She pretty much disappeared."

"Only question now is ... which demon?" Ellen turned to look at Shanti again. "She definitely knows the answer." She heaved a heavy sigh. "We're not going to find out tonight. Why don't we leave her be and see how she is in the mornin'?"

"You're just gonna leave her alone?" Sam asked as Ellen started down the hall.

She stopped and turned. "She'll be fine." She glanced between them. "Unless one of you wants to stay with her?"

"_I'll_ do it," Dean quickly volunteered.

Sam didn't hide his surprise at the offer, either. "_You_ want to?"

His mind briefly flashed back to the scene he'd stumbled onto at the abandoned house. He looked Sam in the eye. "You get too involved," he stated. "I'll watch her."

Still rather stunned, Sam watched Dean pass by him and enter the living room. What was that about?

"You should get some sleep," Ellen suggested, gaining Sam's attention. "You look like you could use it."

Tossing one last glance at Dean, who'd taken a seat in the armchair facing the sofa, he nodded. She had a point, about everything. Things would be different in the morning, he was almost certain.

Ellen smiled a little as Sam headed down the hall. Like Dean, she had a suspicion Sam might've been more involved than he'd like to admit. Smile fading, she shifted her gaze to Dean.

"Dean?"

He looked up when Ellen appeared beside the armchair. "What?"

She nodded towards Shanti. "She's been through enough tonight, so don't start anything."

His mouth quirked as Ellen left the room. Why was he always getting blamed for stuff lately? Didn't matter what it was, it seemed. If it goes wrong, it must be Dean Winchester responsible. He damn sure didn't start anything with this woman, she was the instigator.

He flicked his gaze over to her. She simply continued to stare at nothing and pick at her bracelets.

"You stay like that and we'll get along fine," he murmured. He drummed his fingers against the arms of the chair for a few seconds. Sighing, he leaned forward and snatched up an old newspaper from the coffee table. He'd nearly forgotten she was there when she softly spoke.

"What was it you asked for?"

Slowly, Dean lowered the paper and peered over it. She'd stopped toying with her bracelets as she sat forward on the sofa.

"A year is a desperate bargain," she continued. "What was it you desired so much?"

"I thought you didn't care? Don't you already know all of the stories?" He lightly scoffed. "Why should I tell you, anyway? You hold out and I'm supposed to spill for you?" He snapped the paper back up and pretended to be interested in whatever was on page five.

"There are rules," she said after a few moments of silence. "With the deals."

He lowered the paper again, his eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Oh, yeah?"

"As with everything in the universe, there is a system. A distinct set of rules and limitations, like those which govern each caste of their society." She placed her feet on the floor as she leaned forward a bit more. "Were you aware of that?"

He shook his head. Truth be told, he'd never given it much thought. Demons were demons, hell was hell. The idea there was some sort of order or class system had never entered his mind. Their 'world' didn't seem like it had any rhyme or reason.

"The higher the position, the more power and freedom a demon has at its disposal. One of the lowest classes, the so-called 'crossroads demons', their power is limited to their ability to form contracts with humans. The extent of which hinges on human desire. Nothing more, nothing less."

He set the paper aside as he, too, sat forward, interest piqued. "Really? How does the rest of that system break down?" Maybe the information would be useful in the future, considering the hundreds of escaped demons were a priority now.

Her voice lowered to a whisper, "What was it you traded for?"

His teeth gritted. He noticed a faint smile on her face. Dammit. He'd walked right into that set-up. "For Sam," he finally replied. "I brought him back."

"You ... what?"

"He was killed." He looked away as his mind involuntarily went back to that night. Sam coming towards him, alive, busted up, but still alive. Until ... "I made the deal to bring him back from the dead."

Sitting back, an expression Dean couldn't figure out on her face now, she asked, "What happened?"

His gaze slid back to her. "If I tell you, will you explain what the hell's going on with you?"

She didn't hide her surprise at his response. "You don't want to exchange for the information which could save your own life?"

"I want to enjoy the time I have left, lady. We all gotta go eventually."

Her head tilted to one side. "You don't believe it's possible to escape your fate?"

"No, I don't. All of this stuff with you? Sam's idea." He sighed heavily. "I don't want to mess with it. Who knows what could happen if I did?" However, he _did_ know but she didn't need to. "What if he ends up dead again and it's my fault?"

"You've no concern for your own well-being?"

"As long as Sam's okay, I don't care what happens to me. He's the one who deserves a life."

Her gaze drifted to the floor. "I've heard that one before," she murmured. Her eyes met his. It was his turn to be puzzled. "How was he killed? If ... if you wouldn't mind my asking?"

Over the next fifteen minutes, Dean did his best to give her the Reader's Digest version of their sordid history with the yellow-eyed demon. About the various kids they'd encountered over the previous two years. How they'd been brought together a month before for a twisted _Battle Royale_-styled test of their abilities and gauge exactly how far they would go to stay alive. Kill or be killed. Ultimately, how when it came right down to it, Sam couldn't cold-bloodedly murder another person. And he paid for it with his _own_ life.

"I watched him die." Dean had done his best to not cry in front of her. A few tears slipped by him, a hand quickly wiped them away. He lifted his head. Shanti stared at him in a considerably different manner. He couldn't figure out if she was pissed or sympathetic. "You know what that feels like? You can't do anything, except watch it happen?"

"Yes," she evenly answered.

A bit surprised, he looked to her again. "What?"

"Yes, I do. But I didn't dishonor him by taking his death away." Her eyes narrowed on him a little. "You couldn't let go."

Dean's sadness was steadily replaced by his anger. "It wasn't fair. The son of a bitch stabbed him in the back. Literally." He poked a finger at her. "Don't you fucking dare tell me Sam's bad karma was the reason for it, either."

"Your inability to let go gives you no right to upset the natural order of things," she replied, her tone strained as she tried to keep her temper in check.

"_Natural order_?" he asked, incredulous. "How the hell is what happened to him – or those other kids – the natural order? It's not. Even I'm smart enough to know that. It shouldn't have happened at all." He paused and wondered if he was being too loud. He didn't want Ellen on his ass again. Deciding it didn't matter, he added, "That yellow-eyed bastard had no business even _being_ here. None of them deserve to exist."

"You're more connected to the otherworld than you know. There is nothing in our world which should not be."

"So you're saying demons, vampires, and blood-thirsty spirits should feel free to roam around and kill innocent people?" He snorted. "I'm beginnin' to think you're nuts. Only a crazy person would believe that."

Shanti lowered her gaze to the bracelets around her wrists, toying with them as she did. "You don't understand," she quietly said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm _ignorant_," he snapped, waving a dismissive hand at her. "Heard it already." He stood and started to pace the floor behind the armchair.

"I don't mean it in a derogatory manner," she assured him as she watched him pace. "Ignorance means you simply do not know. Stupidity is another matter entirely."

He stopped and looked over to her. "Why is it whenever you say something I feel like I'm reading a damn fortune cookie?"

She smiled despite herself. A hand tried to hide it before he could see, but she was too late.

He frowned. Why the hell was she laughing at him? His eyes narrowed. "All right. I told you my story. Cause and effect. You're a fan of that, right? What's going on with you?"

Her hand lowered, the smile gone as she focused her attention on him. "It's a crossroads demon."

Whatever problem he had with her was shoved aside as he took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. "Was that who was with you at the house?" She nodded. "Wait a minute ... I thought they couldn't leave the crossroads? How's that possible?"

Shanti rubbed a finger over a spot on her forearm. "She had a strange marking painted in blood here," she answered. "Apparently, she has someone higher up aiding her in her venture. Which is unusual itself. Upper echelon demons are arrogant gits."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Seems like a lotta trouble to go through for one person."

"It's not actually me she's concerned with." Off of his blank stare, she added, "It's _you_."

"Why me?"

"It's the very same demon you forged your contract with, that's why you. She's watched you closely the past few weeks." She paused as she remembered what the demon had told her about his deal. Why he would do whatever she wanted of him, without question. After the revelation of what he'd traded his soul for, she understood why she was so confident. "For some reason, it's imperative you do not discover a way out. Eliminating me eliminates ... possibilities."

"Bitch," he muttered. "I should've known she'd do that." He shifted his attention back to Shanti as something else occurred to him. "If she doesn't want you alive, why didn't she just kill you? Why the torture session?"

"I haven't any idea."

He had the sense she'd lied, but he decided not to push the issue. He wouldn't have had the chance anyway, since she spoke again.

"Would you take it? If you had a way out?"

"There _is_ no way out. If only Sam would accept it, maybe we can focus on the stuff we _can_ fix." He moved back to the armchair, reclining in it as comfortably as he could. "But he won't. It's not his style, giving up. That's why you're alive right now, because he wouldn't give up."

"Why does it make you angry?"

"What, that you're still alive?"

"No. That your brother refuses to give up on anything. You sound as though you resent him for it."

"I don't _resent_ him for it," he shortly replied. "I just wish he'd be more realistic about things, that's all."

"Like you?"

"I guess."

"So, you want him to be selfish, then?"

He leaned forward. "Do you just sit around thinking up ways to piss me off? I'm selfish now? How do you figure that?"

"Why did you do it? And be honest. Was it for him ... or for yourself?" She studied him as he reclined in the chair, a frown plastered on his face. "It's difficult to let go of what we care for, but it's inevitable. Everything that is born, dies. The universe will flow the way it wants." Her features softened. "It isn't your fault, though. Westerners in general are terrified of death, of loss."

"You think you're _better_ than me?"

"No," she evenly replied, shaking her head.

"But you can watch somebody die when they shouldn't have and not care?"

"I didn't say that I didn't _care_. And who are you to judge when it's the correct time for another to move forward?"

"He's a kid, for Christ's sake," he snapped, a little louder than he'd meant to. "And just so you know, there were a couple of times when I was about to clock out for good. Luckily, somebody gave a damn and did something. My dad. Sam." He saw her expression change when he said Sam's name. "Yeah, him, too."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But I ... I thought he'd made no deal?"

"More than one way to cheat death. His solution was a faith healer." He averted his gaze as he remembered that poor girl, Layla. She was so sure God would save her. From time to time, he wondered if she'd managed her "miracle". "Found out faith had nothin' to do with it. Someone was controlling a Reaper. Taking the life from healthy people to 'cure' the sick and damn near dyin'. We put a stop to that." He looked her. She seemed baffled by it. "Not quite the saint you thought he was, huh?"

Without offering any response, Shanti turned her back to him as she laid on the sofa.

He mirthlessly chuckled. "That's what I figured," he muttered.

In the main hall, just around the corner where neither Dean nor Shanti could see him, Sam leaned back against the wall. Unbeknownst to them, he'd heard almost their entire conversation. He hadn't meant to do it. He'd come to make sure the doctor was okay, that's when he heard Dean relating the story about that night.

However, that wasn't what bothered him. It was the fact Dean had no desire to do anything about his situation. He'd go on, without even trying, and let the demon win. And, as a result, leave Sam completely alone. He wished he knew when and where it was Dean had decided he wasn't worth anything. Wasn't like it would help, but maybe just knowing what had caused it ...

He pushed himself away from the wall, then slowly walked towards the staircase.

-

End Chapter Eight


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

------------

The roadhouse was empty, save for a single woman. Out of the horrid rustic clothing, back in her usual black dress, the crossroads demon stared at the half-empty glass of beer in front of her. Several wholly empty glasses were lined up along the left hand side of it, near the wall of the booth. Since she'd been released from hell once more by her liaison, and learned the Winchesters had ruined yet another perfect plan, she'd done her best to allay the aggravation.

Her eyes drifted to the latest marking on her forearm, then they narrowed. If she'd been able to stay, perhaps she might've prevented it. Dean had been rather stupid in his pursuit of her. Given the opportunity, she could've disarmed him. Maybe. She would never know, so why dwell on the past? The future was more important.

Once she took control of Hell, the first order would be to give her fellow crossroads demons more freedom. To move wherever they damn well pleased, and to do things they could only imagine at the moment. The days of being doormats for the elder demons would be over. Trouble was, her plan hinged on possession of Dean Winchester's soul.

Somehow, her attempts to keep him where she wanted him were thwarted. First, they'd found the English woman. Then they took her to the one place no demon of any order could penetrate. For the finale, the night before, they'd mysteriously appeared at the abandoned house. _How_ did they know where to find her?

She was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of the jukebox starting up. The gears clicked and after the record dropped onto the internal turn table, a non-country tune played.

"Please allow me to introduce myself  
I'm a man of wealth and taste  
I've been around a long, long year  
Stole many a man's soul and faith ... "

She turned around in the booth seat.

A young woman, dressed in worn jeans and a white fitted blouse, one not unlike part of a waitress's uniform, danced in place in front of the jukebox. Her straight, shoulder-length honey-blonde hair swayed side-to-side as she nodded her head in time to the music.

As though she knew she was being watched, she peered over her shoulder. A bright, devious smile was on her face, her dark eyes almost shining as she approached the table, half-walking, half-dancing.

'Pleased to meet you ...' she mouthed along with the lyrics. 'Hope you guessed my name ... but what's puzzlin' you is the nature of my game ...' When she reached the booth, she dropped into the empty seat on the other side of the table. "What're you so down about?" she cheerfully inquired.

The demon frowned at the other woman. "What do you think?" she grumbled.

She folded her hands together and placed them on the table before she leaned forward. "Obviously, some plan of yours isn't panning out the way you'd hoped."

The demon smirked. "You'd be extremely familiar with that, wouldn't you ... _Meg_? Or whatever the hell it is you're calling yourself today."

As she carefully examined one of her hands which was extended in front of her, she frowned a little. "This particular girl's name is 'Rosalyn'." Her nose scrunched. "But I like 'Meg' much better." She smiled as her attention returned to the other demon. "Not bad as humans go, hmm?" She sat back, posing a moment. "What do you think? Nice?"

After studying the features most humans would consider attractive, she murmured, "Your last one was cuter."

"Wait – do you mean the girl ... or Sam Winchester?" Meg feigned embarrassment as she placed her fingers to her mouth. "Ooops! That's not the one you're all worked up over now, is it?"

A visible panic washed over the lower demon's human face. "You know about that?" she whispered.

Meg grabbed the demon's wrist which sported the blood array. "Not many demons have the ability to do this," she stated. "The one you're manipulating? Happens to be a cousin of mine." She released the arm. "Of _course_ I know." She saw the fear in the other demon's eyes. "Oh, don't worry! I'm not here to interfere with you keeping that moron firmly locked into his contract. Why you're going through so much trouble over it, I couldn't begin to fathom."

The lower demon relaxed. She settled back in the booth seat as she drew her marked arm closer to her body. "What are you here for?"

Meg toyed with one of the empty glasses. "I'm in the middle of a bit of manipulation of my own," she casually replied, as a smile tugged at her lips.

"If you're attempting to settle old scores with the Winchesters, then you _are_ interfering."

A hand waved in a dismissive manner. "As far as I'm concerned, we're even." Her smile widened as it turned more coy. "Their massive fuck-up allowed me to waltz right out of Hell. Not to mention the permanent dispatching of my father." She rolled her eyes. "No more endless rattling on about world domination. It was past boring two hundred years ago."

"So, if it's not them, then what is your 'manipulation'?"

Meg placed a finger to her lips, her eyes glimmered as she whispered, "It's a surprise." She lowered her hand. "What about you? You aren't giving up, I hope? So much hard work and general underhandedness shouldn't be cast aside lightly. Even if it is for something as petty as one moron's soul. But your kind never plan big, do they?"

_Bitch_, she though as she briefly glared at Meg. "I'm out of ideas," she answered with a shrug. Her eyes darkened as she scowled. "She must have a guardian angel watching over her, as lucky as she's been through this." She focused on Meg. "She's with them right now, at the Harvelle woman's place. She has enough wards to keep our kind a half a mile away."

"Outsource," she suggested. "It's all the rage in America these days. Surely some poor bastard you haven't collected yet would do your bidding. Speaking of, you _do_ have the highest soul collection rate of any three of your kind." She paused before adding, "Almost enough to form your own army." Her eyes flicked up to the demon, but there was no reaction from her. "Just an observation."

"I've tried it already," she shortly replied. "He was useless. An incompetent fool."

"Find one who isn't." She placed the glass on the table. "I can't believe you've overlooked the logical choice." Off of the demon's confused expression, she sighed. "Dean Winchester. He'd jump at the opportunity, I'm sure. I heard about the deal you gave him. A year?" She shook her head, amazement on her face. "And I thought _I_ was a cold-hearted bitch. Then the threat of reneging if he tries to get out of it? You know you can't do that, right? Against the rules."

"He isn't aware of it," she snapped. Her arms folded across her chest. She wished Meg would leave, she certainly wasn't helping her mood any. "Hopefully, he _still_ isn't."

Meg shrugged. "So, why _not_ him, though? No matter what you may promise, you're not obligated to release him from his contract."

"I ... it's complicated," she finally replied.

"Hmm." Meg studied her. "Well, I've always found the right motivation does wonders for even the dimmest of bulbs." She glanced at the jukebox as the song ended. "There's my cue. I have somewhere else to be." She rose to her feet. "Remember what I said – up the ante on your incompetent fool."

Considering her words, the demon figured Meg might have a point. It was definitely worth a shot. A smile crept to her lips. And she knew exactly where to strike on her "poor bastard".

Meg managed three steps away from the table before she pivoted sharply on a heel. "Oh, and one other thing?" she said as she came back. "If you might do me a very ... _personal_ favor?"

She looked up to Meg, who loomed beside her, devilishly smiling. "Which would be?"

The elder demon leaned over until her face was mere inches from the lesser's. "If you happen to run into Sam Winchester?" She paused to bite her lip. Her grin turned more sinister as she perversely giggled while she trailed the backs of the fingers of one hand down the blonde's cheek. "Tell him I said 'howdy'?" She winked. "That's all."

The demon didn't take her eyes from Meg's retreating figure until she was gone. Blinking, she shook her head. Certainly, the strange fascination "Meg" held for the younger Winchester brother was well-known throughout Hell. However, Meg didn't appear to give a damn _everyone_ was aware of the fact.

The blonde frowned. She'd have to do something about Meg as soon as she possibly could once she'd assumed control. She didn't need a loose cannon the likes of her aboard her ship. That type of ... fascination wasn't healthy. It made beings – demon or not – do incredibly stupid things.

-

When he reached the doorway that lead to the living room, Sam stopped. After a brief pause, he peered around the corner. Dean was slumped in the battered armchair, asleep. The doctor, however, was nowhere to be seen. A sound from the kitchen caught his attention. Giving Dean one last glance, he entered the opposite room.

Inside, Shanti, dressed in new clothes of Jo's, stood by the counter with a cup of coffee clutched in her hands. She didn't say a word, just simply refilled the mug.

His gaze shifted to the table. All of his books on demon deals, along with the two he'd dug up on Hinduism, lay open. "What are you doing?" he asked as he looked to her. "Where did you get these?"

"From your car," she answered then sipped her coffee. She came over to the table and flipped through the pages of one of the Hinduism texts. "They're horribly out of date," she commented as she sat down.

"Why'd you go digging around in our car?"

"If you wanted to know something about Hinduism, you could've asked me," she said as though he hadn't spoken. She looked to him as he sat in the empty chair across the table from her. "Why didn't you?"

"You haven't exactly been forthcoming with answers to direct questions so far."

She faintly smiled. "Touche." She motioned to the book. "Americans know so little about it. They seem to believe it boils down to yoga and karma. It's more complicated."

"Is it different in England?" The irritation over her going through their trunk was off-set by her willingness to share _any_ information. "I understand there's a larger Indian population."

"Slightly." She leaned back in the chair. "Still, it's difficult for immigrants and their children, even ones not born in the country, to retain our beliefs." She looked to him again. "You may not understand, having lived in a country like America, but there? It's easier to assimilate. Actually, it's almost a requirement. My parents did their best where my brother, sister and I were concerned, but some of us were ... less receptive."

"Your sister."

"What do you know about _her_?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, suspicious.

He shrugged. "Nothing other than what you told me. I assumed you meant her, based on the photo you had the other day. She was dressed differently than you and your brother."

She relaxed. "Oh. Well, yes, I suppose."

He picked up one of his own texts. "Seems odd you'd choose something like this to become an expert in," he commented. He opened it to a specific page then shoved the book across the table to her. "I didn't find many references to demons in those Hinduism texts. When I did, they read nothing like the ones Dean and I have met. I didn't see any mention of the supernatural in general, either."

She looked from the medieval drawing of Doctor Faustus forging his infamous deal to Sam. "For us, there is no supernatural. The phenomena you consider as such, including incredible human abilities? It's as much a part of the natural world as you and I. We don't fear these things, we embrace them."

"That doesn't answer my question." He tapped a finger on the picture in the text in front of her. "Why this?"

Shanti slammed the book shut as she rose to her feet. "It isn't any of your business," she shortly replied.

Deciding not to push the issue, he asked, "So, how do you deal with demons, then? There wasn't one suggestion about warding them off or even how to fight them."

"You wouldn't find the answers in those books," she stated as she placed the empty mug into the sink. She looked over her shoulder to him. "Only the Vedas contain them."

"I don't happen to have any copies of them on me."

"They wouldn't be of use to you," she replied as she approached.

"What about those wards you had at your house? I've never seen them before."

"They weren't 'wards'. They were prayers to the goddess Durga, written in Hindi. When evil demonic forces create imbalance, all gods unite, becoming one divine force, who is she. I need no other protection." She paused as her mouth quirked. "Or least, I didn't until recently."

"A while back, Dean and I encountered a rakshasa. A name I _did_ see a few places in these books."

Her brow furrowed. "You've met a _rakshasa_?"

"We managed to kill it with a knife of pure brass."

She shook her head. "It wasn't actually one, if that's how you managed to defeat it. Unless your knife was engraved with prayers, it wouldn't have done anything at all," she explained as she seated herself at the table.

He frowned. "Are you _sure_ it wasn't a rakshasa?"

"A rakshasa isn't like any demon you've encountered thusfar, and humans don't take the responsibility of dealing with one. The asura, the sort who commonly appear in our world, are another matter entirely. And we don't dispel them, when they do cause trouble, in the same manner as you lot. We don't use guns or knives or salt to protect ourselves from whatever evil might threaten us; it's more based in faith."

Sam sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "That explains it," he murmured.

"Explains what?"

"Why our father taught us about hardly any of this." He tossed one of the Hinduism books aside. Off of her puzzled expression, he added, "If it didn't help him fight demons or the like, Dad had no use for it."

She frowned, almost sadly. "That's certainly no proper way to live."

"Doesn't matter now."

She sat down. "Ellen mentioned you'd lost him not long ago." She pressed her lips together, unsure if she should even ask her next question. "How did he die?"

"Saving Dean's life." He wondered if he should elaborate. Ultimately, John Winchester, too, had made a demon deal and he knew she didn't approve of it, even it if was to save a loved one's life. And if she ever said a negative word against their father when Dean could hear it ...

"What happened?"

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on one of the open texts. He'd rather look at images of hell than her face just then. "Dean was close to death. Our father ... struck a deal with a demon, the one responsible for a lot of what's happened. He traded his life for Dean's. He was gone before we knew it." He dared to look her in the eye. Surprisingly, she didn't seem phased. "But ... that wasn't the only time he'd almost died."

"The other was when you'd used the so-called faith healer."

Doing his best to fake surprise, he asked, "How did you know about that?"

"Your brother and I had an enlightening discussion last night."

Sam waited for the proverbial other shoe to drop. For her to get pissed off and tell him how wrong he and his father had been. But she didn't. She only sat there as she absently flipped through a different text. "You don't seem particularly bothered," he finally said.

"Should I be?"

"I just thought you would."

She shrugged. "The circumstances are not the same." She lifted her gaze from the text. "When your brother traded his soul to reverse your death, it was very different than what your father, or even you, did."

"How?"

She peered over the top rims of her glasses as she studied him, and wondered if she should attempt the explanation. However, he was not like Dean, she suspected he would listen. He also reminded her so much of ... _him_.

"The trade was pure. There was no disturbance."

He frowned. "What does _that_ mean?"

"They were immediate and did not upset the natural order." She saw he was still confused. Sighing, she closed the book and leaned forward. "It's rather similar to an ... 'equivalent exchange'. The Reaper removed life from one body and passed it to your brother. The reasons behind _why_ the Reaper did this, they don't matter. They are granted the power to give and take life by the Universe itself."

"And my father's deal? He sold his soul, just as Dean did."

"Yet for no gain of his own. And it was realized, as you said, almost immediately. He passed his remaining earthly energy to his dying son – life for life. Also, most importantly, in both instances, your brother had _not_ yet moved forward."

Sam shook his head, still not convinced. "Dean did the same thing, the 'equivalent exchange'. He -" He stopped when she sighed in frustration. "What?"

"It _wasn't_. You were gone from this life, your soul had moved forward. His selfishness prompted him to ... resurrect you in an unnatural manner. You should not be here, Sam. And you suffer yourself because of it."

"What do you mean, I'm suffering?"

"You've been different since then, yes?" When he quickly looked away, she leaned forward a little more, her elbows resting on the tops of her knees. "You can't quite suss it out, but you feel as though you're incomplete? An inexplicable sadness, a strange sense of longing? When you sleep at night, it only becomes stronger?"

As much as he wanted to deny it, she was right. Since the moment he'd awakened in that abandoned house, nothing was the same. Over the past few weeks, he'd been distracted, in a way which didn't make sense to him. Dean hadn't noticed. Or if he had, didn't say anything. Of course, he was busy trying to distract himself between jobs.

Shanti's expression was more sympathetic. "I'm right, aren't I?"

He finally looked her in the eye. "What's wrong with me?" he quietly asked.

"Upon death, the soul begins a new journey, to one or more states of being, then is eventually reborn anew. It's the natural order. Your brother upset it. Your soul wants to move forward but it's stagnant here in the physical world." She paused. "He couldn't have known what it would do to you."

He absently gazed upon the texts on the table, at the illustrations of Hell and its many miseries. Of all the things sure to be waiting for Dean at the end of his year, if he didn't do something.

Sitting forward, she continued. "Your presence here pushes against the flow of the Universe, it creates a disharmony. One which has followed you since you've returned."

He focused on her. "What do you mean?"

"Look at the events around that point." She waited, allowing him to remember. "Something changed." A moment later, she saw the realization come to him. "It was no coincidence the Gate opened. If the Universe is disturbed in such a way, many innocent people suffer."

Sam stared at the floor. He'd hardly heard anything she'd said after he'd put it together – his unnatural resurrection and the events in the cemetery. Was it truly the reason? Did his coming back set off a ripple effect which shook open the Gate of Hell itself?

Before he could wonder any further, Dean entered the kitchen.

"You're full of shit," he said in an even tone that unsettled Sam. He glared down on Shanti. "That ain't why that Gate opened. A warped bastard, the same one who killed him -" He nodded to Sam. " - opened it. End of story. Stop blaming us for it."

Slowly, she rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Dean's. "It must be fantastic to have a child-like grasp on the world."

"Look, I listened to this crap last night. And I took it because I told Ellen I wouldn't get into it with you." He pointed to Sam. "He's got enough to deal with without you laying all of this on him."

"I didn't say _he_ was the one responsible now, did I? Who was it who made the deal?"

"Dean -" Sam said as he quickly jumped to his feet. As on edge as Shanti had Dean, Sam wasn't sure he wouldn't keep from doing something he never would under normal circumstances.

"Sorry I'm not as perfect as you," he sarcastically snorted. "Sorry I actually _did_ something, instead of just sitting back and taking it. As far as I'm concerned, the Universe can go fuck itself. And so can you."

Eyes narrowed, Shanti scoffed. "Typical," she muttered as she left the room. Not long afterwards, a door slammed at the other end of the main hallway.

"That was really adult of you, Dean," Sam said, shaking his head.

"You're siding with _her_?" he incredulously replied, pointing towards the doorway. "_We're_ responsible for the Gate opening? Are you kidding me? You were there, you know how it happened. It wasn't because of anything _I_ did. Or because you came back." He humorlessly laughed. "And if you seriously believe that garbage she was running about your 'soul being lost' ..."

Sam gathered up his books. After glancing at his brother, Sam stepped around him, books in hand, and left the kitchen.

"_Hey!_" He stopped outside of the doorway, watching Sam ascend the staircase. "Sam?" He vanished from sight then Dean heard the slam of another door. "Goddamnit," he swore under his breath.

-

As Felton closed the front door, he paused. From down the hall, in the living room, he heard the bright and clear sound of his daughter's voice. Singing.

"Some bright morning when this life is over,  
I'll fly away.  
To that home on God's celestial shore,  
I'll fly away.

I'll fly away, O Glory,

I'll fly away.  
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,  
I'll fly away."

Brow furrowed, he slowly walked down the main hall. He hadn't heard Julia sing at all in the past five years. Especially not _that_ song. It was one Angie had taught her, one they'd loved to sing together. One they were singing when ...

"When the shadows of this life have gone,  
I'll fly away;  
Like a bird from these prison bars I'll fly,  
I'll fly away.

I'll fly away, O Glory,

I'll fly away.  
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,  
I'll fly away."

As he reached the room, his curiosity turned to fear. He blanched when he discovered Julia wasn't alone. The woman sitting on his sofa had her back to him, but he didn't need to see her face to know whom it was. His eyes shifted to Julia, who faced the demon. A smile lit up her features in a way he'd not seen in ages.

"Just a few more weary days and then,  
I'll fly away.  
To a land where joys will never end,  
I'll fly away.

I'll fly away, O Glory,

I'll fly away.  
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,  
I'll fly away."

When she finished, the demon applauded. Then Julia noticed her father had returned. "Hi, Daddy!" she cheerfully greeted.

The demon turned on the sofa, a wry grin on her face. "Hi, _Daddy_," she echoed. Her eyes briefly flashed the demonic red.

"Did you hear me singing?"

"Yes. Come here."

She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Just come here."

She looked to the blonde. "I thought you said he wouldn't be mad?"

"Julia!"

"Oh, she's fine," the demon assured him. She gently stroked the girl's hair. "We've become rather good friends." She smiled pleasantly at the young girl. "Haven't we, Julia?"

She nodded. "She knows about the light place," she told her father. "She said it's real and she can get there."

His eyes narrowed on the demon. "Is that so?" he murmured.

"I told her I could take the _both_ of you there. I wouldn't mind, you know," the demon sweetly replied. Her gaze settled on the girl. "Julia tells me she misses her mother very much."

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped.

Julia blinked, surprised at the nastiness in her father's tone. "Why are you so mad?"

"Julia, let me have a chat with your daddy," the demon said as she ran her fingernails down the girl's cheek.

Julia watched the woman leave the room with her father.

"You can't wait one more damn day to start torturing me?" he hissed once they were out of the room.

The demon's eyes narrowed as she seized Felton's chin in one hand. "You should be grateful I'm here, Felton. Normally, right about now, my little pets would be driving you completely mad. But I'm giving you _one last chance_ to get right with me. You wouldn't want to anything to happen to Julia, would you?"

"You'd better not touch her -"

She gasped. "I'm offended! I may be a demon, but I'm not a monster." Her smile turned sinister. "My hounds, on the other hand, are more brutal and wicked than any human could ever imagine."

All of his anger quickly turned to horror. "You wouldn't -"

"Do you want to find out?" She leaned forward. "Or are you interested in another chance to save yourself?"

"If I'm not?"

Her eyebrows arched. "Ooo. Aren't we all brave now?"

"You have no idea what the prospect of inevitable death does to a man."

"It makes you pathetic, scared little maggots," she growled. "Over the centuries, I've watched so many of you attempt to escape me. To hide behind magic and wards and -" She scoffed. "_God_. Escape? Oh, _nobody_ escapes." Her nails dug into his skin. She saw the fear return. "Now, for being rude, I might just take your daughter with me when I leave."

"You can't -"

She squeezed his jaw which shut him up. "I _own_ that child's life, Felton." She lopsidedly grinned. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." Her features hardened. "Don't fuck with me. I haven't had the best week ever. So, either you kill that bitch or not only you will suffer."

"Please -" He gasped when he felt the cold touch of metal to his throat.

"Another failure costs you everything." She pushed him away so hard he hit the wall with a thump. She raised a hand and held out the knife to him. "You remember what to do."

He hesitated before he accepted the knife. "Where is she?" he asked in a whisper.

"Nebraska. You may want to leave as soon as possible, it's a long drive. Your contract is up in the morning, Felton. If she isn't dead before sunrise, I can no longer hold my hounds at bay. They'll come ... " She slipped a piece of paper into his shirt pocket. "... for the _both_ of you. Good luck, darling."

He blinked as she practically vanished before his eyes. Sighing, he looked down to the knife clutched in his hand. His head lifted and he saw Julia in the doorway to the living room. She stared at the glimmering knife.

"Where'd you get that?"

He hid it behind his back. "Julia, tell Ms. Miller I need her to watch you for the night, okay?"

"But -"

"Don't ask questions, just do it."

Frowning, she did as instructed. When he heard the front door shut, he pressed the heel of his empty hand to his forehead as he slid down the wall until he hit the floor.

"God ... help me ..." he whispered.

-

End Chapter Nine


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

--------------

A loud knock on the door startled Shanti and she turned away from the open text in front of her. She waited, unsure of whether or not she wanted to bother with whomever it was. _Especially_ if it were Dean.

"Doctor?"

She relaxed when she heard Sam's voice on the other side, then closed her text. When she opened the door, she didn't find the same Sam Winchester she'd dealt with the past few days before her. Something was different in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"You _lied_ to me."

"Sorry? I lied to you?"

"April 20th, 1992. The _Manchester Evening News_," he replied, voice still dead calm. The expression on her face slowly change from surprise into anger. "Leila Patil was reported missing by her parents to the Hyde police that day. She'd been missing for almost four."

"How _dare_ you investigate me?" she hissed.

"I wouldn't have found it so strange if it was just the one lie." Sam raised an eyebrow, not fazed by her indignation. "April 17th, 1987, _Manchester Evening News_: 'Local Boy Not Dead, Miraculous Recovery'. If I did my math right, April 17th, 1992, is around five years from when your brother was miraculously 'cured'. Though, there _was_ an article which confirmed _one _story you told me; your brother was killed in London on April 23rd, 1987."

"You had no right to -"

"Your sister made a deal, didn't she?" he cut her off. "Just didn't get the usual ten years." He moved in the doorway, to block her path when she tried to get by him. "That's why someone with your background would research demon deals in detail."

"You haven't any idea why I'm interested in such a thing," she snapped.

"Why else would you? What I don't understand is why you won't use your knowledge to help other people. And I _know_ you know something."

Using all of her strength, she barely managed to shove her way past him and she hurried down the hallway, towards the front door.

Ellen looked up in time to see the doctor rush by the doorway of the living room. Soon after, the front door opened then slammed shut. Then Sam came to a stop there.

"Sam?" she asked as she came towards him. "What's the matter?"

He glanced at her then to Dean, who used an elbow to prop himself up on the sofa. "I plan to find out," he replied.

Ellen watched him leave the house then turned to Dean.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked as he got up and went over to the front window. He pulled back the curtain, then frowned. They were on the front porch, neither one seemed too happy about whatever it was. "This can't be good."

-

Outside, Sam stopped beside the doctor, who was seated on the top step of the porch. She kept her head bowed as she toyed with her two bracelets.

"What happened?" he finally asked in a low voice.

She didn't even glance up at him, she only shifted her attention to the darkening sky. On the horizon, storm clouds gathered. The occasional flicker of lightning was followed by a grumble of thunder.

"Anil had been ill for months," she softly began. She swallowed as she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. "The doctors diagnosed him with acute lymphatic leukemia, which usually treatable in a nine-year-old, if caught early enough."

"But they didn't," Sam said as he sat down beside her.

"No."

"So Leila made the deal to cure him?"

"Not to cure him. By the time she'd summoned the demon, Anil was dead." She looked to Sam. He'd changed again; his look less aggravated and accusatory, more compassionate and sympathetic. "You must understand – Anil was never afraid or angry about leaving this world. Neither were my parents or I. Leila, however, wouldn't accept it. She'd become so distanced from her faith as a teenager."

"How did she even know how to summon a crossroads demon? You said you'd never been taught about demons like ours."

Her jaw tightened. "Her English friends," she muttered, a bitterness in her voice. "They'd told her stories of demons who could grant a person whatever he wished, for a price." She focused on the horizon again. "The night Anil died, Leila acted terribly strange. As soon as he passed, she fled the hospital. Little did I know at the time, she'd made her decision."

"Did she tell you what she'd done afterwards?"

"Oh, certainly not. She knew our parents would've been outraged." Her head bowed and she watched the colorful band spin around her wrist. "She allowed us to believe it was a gift from God. Which wasn't difficult for us to do, since Anil was very special."

Sam frowned. "Special?"

"He wasn't like other children. In India, he would've been considered a 'living saint'. Anil had unlimited compassion for all things. He exhibited amazing abilities now and again as well."

"Abilities?" he repeated. He couldn't help but wonder if Anil was like him - a "special kid". He knew there'd been others before him. Before Max, Andy, Jake, Ava, and who knew how many more.

As though she'd read his mind, Shanti assured him, "He wasn't like you, Sam." She paused when he looked to her. "His abilities were nothing like the kind you had. Or the others like you. His were as natural as everything else in our world."

He averted his gaze. "When did you realize it wasn't God responsible?"

"After Anil was killed in London," she replied. "Leila was absolutely off her trolley about how she'd been duped. I asked her what she was on about, that's when I learned the truth." She sighed. "I couldn't believe she'd done something so bloody selfish."

"Did your parents ever find out?"

She shook her head. "I knew how they would react. I promised Leila I would never tell." A few tears slid down her cheeks. "They still haven't any clue to this day."

"What happened after that?"

"That evening, of the day Anil died the second time, she went to confront the demon." Her fingers brushed away the tears and she shifted her gaze back to the sky. The air had turned chilly since the cold front moved in. "I'm ... I'm not quite sure why I did, but I went with her. I didn't know what to expect. Certainly not a dark-haired English woman in a black dress."

Sam glanced back at the house. He'd never come face to face with the crossroads demon himself but he remembered Dean's descriptions of the human hosts' it'd had both times he'd summoned it.

"They had quite a row. Leila demanded to know if her contract was still intact because of the accident. She told her it was, she had no control over what happened to a person after she'd brought him back. She'd done her part, Leila would do hers in five years time."

"Why did she receive five years? Normally, the deal is for ten."

"When one is desperate, one will take whatever one can get."

Sam glanced at the house again. A year. It was less than Leila had been granted. Why did the demon bargain for such a short time with Dean, though? Five years, ten years – either way, she would get what she wanted.

"Still, she claimed she could easily restore Anil's life to him once more." Her gaze met Sam's. "For the usual price."

"She wanted to deal for your sister's soul ... _twice_?"

"No. That was impossible for her."

His expression morphed from confusion to realization. "It wasn't for _you_."

She nodded as she removed her glasses to better clear the tears from her eyes. "No 12-year-old child should be faced with such a decision. Still, I refused. It wasn't proper." She sniffled. "When Leila looked to me, as though she'd expected me to agree, I ... I fled. Later, she accused me of not caring enough about Anil to save him from death. I told her she was the one who didn't care about him. He didn't need to be saved from death. The only person she wanted to save was herself. Save herself from the pain of losing him."

Sam lowered his gaze to the ground.

"She left the same night," Shanti quietly said. "She'd written a note, telling me she would return when she had her answers."

"About how to escape the deal."

"Yes. However, five years later, almost to the day, she returned home. I nearly didn't recognize her, she'd changed so much. She said she'd traveled throughout all of Europe, following the stories people told her about texts and scrolls which had the answers she wanted." She replaced her glasses. "These texts and scrolls had become things of legend and myth."

"But they weren't?"

"Oh, they're quite real." She looked at him. "I've seen them."

-

Dean leaned against the wall as he peered through the curtains. Sam and the doctor were seated on the porch steps – had been for a while now –, wrapped up in a conversation about God knew what. He wished at least _he_ knew. He didn't like Sam being alone with that woman. Not just because she stuffed his head with all of her Hindu crap, but he was unusually _involved_ with her. He'd initially believed it was a physical attraction. Woman was a bitch, but he wasn't blind. Neither was Sam. She wasn't bad-looking, rather pretty, nice body. Still, he didn't think it was the reason Sam gave so much of a damn.

He frowned. He'd stewed the entire afternoon about what he'd overheard her tell Sam; the garbage about his soul being lost, his spirit suffering because he'd been brought back from the dead. It was bullshit. Though, as he considered it, he'd wondered if there wasn't some element of truth to it. He couldn't deny Sam _was_ different. Dean told himself it was to be expected – Sam was dead, then he wasn't. He'd looked death in the face twice himself – literally. Put things into perspective. For a while, anyway.

His mind flashed back to the night before, when Sam had said he hadn't asked to be brought back. At the time, it had stung more than Dean would admit. Now? He felt somewhat guilty. He'd never seen that look in Sam's eyes before – a mixture of resentment, anger and sadness.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Dean blinked as Ellen's voice roused him from his thoughts. He looked over to her. She sat on the sofa as she sorted through a box filled with paper and loose photographs.

"They'll be all right out there," she added, glancing at him.

Dean looked out of the window once last time then he sat down in the armchair and watched Ellen continue her work.

"Hey, Ellen?" he murmured after several moments of silence.

"What?"

"Do you think she's right? About what happened in the cemetery?" He paused but she just kept separating the photos from the paper scraps. "Do you think we're responsible for it, the Gate opening?"

She heavily sighed as she sat back on the sofa. She gazed at a picture clutched in her right hand. It was one of her and her husband, taken not long after they'd met, yet before either of them had become mixed up with this entire mess. They were different people then, she almost didn't recognize herself.

"Yes," she finally replied. Her gaze shifted to Dean. "I do." That obviously wasn't the answer he'd expected from her judging by the expression on his face. "I don't mean 'we' as in you, me, Sam and Bobby specifically."

"Then who? Only two other people were there."

Her thumb brushed over her husband's young face. "I mean _all_ of us – hunters and those who're aware of what's goin' on. If we'd been more organized, less focused on ourselves and our own little corners of the world ... maybe we could've prevented it."

"Or maybe it wouldn't have made any difference." Dean leaned forward as Ellen looked to him. "Look at some of the people in our line of work, Ellen. You seriously believe Gordon would've jumped at the chance to activate Wonder Twin powers with _us_?"

"More than Gordon out there, Dean." She regarded him with a rather sympathetic expression now. "Too bad John never saw things that way." She looked to the photo. "Never did view other folk as allies, just a means to an end."

Dean's own gaze settled on the picture in Ellen's hand, which was turned enough in his direction he could clearly see it. It was a younger Ellen with a young man he assumed was Jo's father. He had to be – he resembled her too much. "I'm sorry," he quietly said.

Her head lifted and he could see the glint of tears in her eyes. "You know I don't hold that against you," she assured him. "It's done. In the past. We have tomorrow to worry about."

After a hesitation, he asked, "If you could, would you bring him back?"

Ellen tucked the photo into the box then shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

She paused before she looked to him. "Losing him the first time was hard enough. I couldn't put myself through it again. Or Jo."

"Do you think I was being selfish, with what I did? About Sam?"

Ellen rose to her feet and place a gentle hand on one of his cheeks as she offered a sad smile. "I think you were just being human." With that, she left the living room and vanished into the kitchen.

-

"You made your connections through school?"

Shanti nodded. "It took several years, but I eventually located those in possession of these materials, the same information which had been the cause of death for so many." She let out a light breath. "Though, the smarter ones went into hiding. They've killed thousands over the years, those who were foolish enough to not to. As you've found out yourself, it isn't information their kind want out in the world."

Sam nodded. It made sense now. The constant moving, the isolation from the world and the hunter community, she had to do it. "And it's why you've never helped anyone," he assumed.

She looked away. "Actually, it isn't. We aren't restricted with the knowledge. We _are_ allowed to reveal what we know."

"Then why -"

"To become involved with people such as you and your brother, it brings everything I strive to keep _out_ of my life _into_ it," she interrupted. Her eyes met his, he was confused again. "I mentioned you carried an 'evil' with you, and I know it makes no sense to you. But the way you do this ... this _job_, it's awful. Horrid, really."

"And you'd keep what you know from non-hunters because ...?" He waited for her to fill in the blank.

"If people were aware of what they had to do, they wouldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"These things are not easy, Sam. After speaking with your brother, I can assure you, you've wasted your time coming to me. My answers will not help him."

"I didn't expect it to be easy. And why not let _Dean_ decide for himself if it's what he does or doesn't want to do?"

"I already know he won't. I _am_ sorry." Her features softened as she placed a hand on one of his. "The only thing I can offer to you which would be useful? Don't be there when they come for him, the hounds." She squeezed his hand. "That ... you don't want to witness."

"You saw them take Leila?"

"I couldn't help her then. What I _can_ do is continue my research, find a way to release her soul from hell. If she remains there, she'll never have the opportunity to cleanse her karma. If she can't do that, she'll never be truly free."

Sam lifted his head as a memory struck him. "The night at the cemetery, Dean and I saw our father. When the Gate opened, he managed to escape Hell. Maybe your sister -"

She shook her head. "It isn't possible."

"Why isn't it?"

"Your father's situation was _different_. Also, the demon he'd forged his deal with was eliminated. Usually when that happens, the souls trapped in Hell, for whatever reason, by that _particular_ demon are no longer bound. They are free to move forward."

"This is true for a crossroads demon, too?"

She noticed the glimmer of hope in his eyes. "It's not something I'd seen mentioned in any of the texts in relation to them. The rules vary between demon classes, Sam. Even so, it isn't an easy task to eliminate _any_ demon. However, I cannot stress enough that I'm _not_ certain it_ wouldn't_ do any good. Still, as I've told you, your father's situation wasn't like your brother's."

"What about those prayers, the ones to what's her name? Durga? You said she was a destroyer of demons. Would that help us?"

"To dispel or keep an evil demon away, yes. To eliminate one, no. Humans cannot summon Durga to destroy demons in the same manner you would summon a demon itself. It simply doesn't work that way."

He let out an aggravated breath as he stood up. "Then what good does any of it _do_?" he angrily asked. "I can't understand how you people fight against evil, Doctor."

"We don't have the same definition of 'evil' as you. True evil isn't what is out there." She gestured toward the dark horizon. Her hand rested on her chest. "It's here." It moved to her temple. "And here."

"We're not talking about philosophy," he sighed as he shook his head. "The duality of man doesn't apply here. Demons aren't like us."

"In your education, they are not. You only see the duality in _humans_, not the universe."

He looked down on her, his brow lifted. "What are you trying to tell me, _demons_ are capable of good _and_ evil, too?" He saw the expression on her face remain steady. He scoffed in disbelief. "You can't be serious. There is no way we're like them."

"In many ways, we are. These beings are in a similar situation – they've allowed everything negative in themselves to gain control. Disharmony surrounds them the same as it does when _we_ allow it to happen within us. Selfishness, greed, hate, clinging to a physical world which we are not truly a part of ... We aren't so very different from them, Sam."

"It's not possible."

"We're all from the same source. The Maya, the illusion which has trapped us, it has trapped _them_ as well -"

He held his hands up to cut her off. "I've given some thought to a lot of the things you've said the past few days. I can agree with parts of it." He pointed a finger at her. "Not this. Not with all I've seen and experienced. Even in only the past two years. The things these demons do? No human being could _ever_ -"

"Are you so certain we couldn't?" she asked. "Human history has its share of horrors."

"Not like this."

Her expression turned sympathetic, almost sad. "I shouldn't expect you to understand, you've had a different education about the otherworld. You've been taught to fear it, to view it as something which doesn't belong. But to destroy them." She slowly rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving his. "It's to destroy one's own self."

He turned away. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I just can't believe that."

After a moment, Shanti touched a hand to his shoulder. When he turned, she nodded towards the house. "You should value you what time you have left with your brother," she quietly suggested. "I didn't even have such a luxury."

"I'm not giving up on him."

She smiled a little. "I know you won't." Her smile faded as she watched him go back into the house. Her gaze shifted to the sky as the lightning streaked across it.

Something terrible was on its way. She could feel it.

-

Dean dashed away from the window then jumped onto the sofa as Sam came back inside the house. He laid down and pretended to be lost in thought when his brother entered the living room. When Sam didn't say anything, he looked over to him and sat up when he noticed the look on Sam's face.

"Sam?" He approached him, concerned. "Hey, what's with you?" He grabbed him by the upper arms and shook him until Sam looked at him. "What's wrong?" He narrowed his eyes. "What'd she say to you_ this_ time?" He was surprised when Sam threw his arms around him, and pinned his own to his sides, as he hugged him. "Uh ... Sam?" He laughed rather uncertainly as he patted his brother on the back. "Okay, this is beyond weirding me out now."

Sam released Dean as he stepped back. "I'll see you in the morning," he quietly said then headed down the hall and up the stairs.

Dean slowly shook his head, baffled by what had taken place. What the hell was that about? He looked to his right as the front door shut again and Shanti stood just inside. "What'd you do to him?" he demanded as he pointed to the stairs.

"I'm sorry?" Her brow furrowed as she came closer. "Do?"

"He's acting stranger than usual."

A faint smile crossed her lips. "Oh, is he? How so?"

"He hugged me, for _no_ reason," he grumbled.

Her smile grew a bit wider. "I'm quite sure he had a reason for it," she replied. "Good night, then."

Dean's eyes narrowed in a suspicious manner as the woman passed by him and continued down the hall.

Ellen appeared in the kitchen door way, a mug in both of her hands. She noted the strange look on Dean's face. "Everything all right?"

"That was, hands down, the _creepiest_ moment of my life," he stated.

Her eyebrows arched. "What happened?"

He pointed down the hall. "She was actually _nice_ to me."

-

End Chapter Ten


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

--------------

As the door at the back of the kitchen creaked open, an errant flash of lightning illuminated the dark room very briefly, and reflected off of the knife Felton Howard held in his sweaty right hand. He carefully scanned the room.

He'd cased the Harvelle house most of the afternoon. They hadn't seen him, but he'd been very close to the place itself once the sun finally vanished and the storm clouds rolled in. He had an idea of where to go to find the doctor because of it.

His shoes lightly squeaked against the linoleum floor as he crept through the kitchen. He came to an abrupt halt as the lightning flashed again. At the kitchen doorway, he saw the guy who'd chased him through the woods the other day, across the hallway, asleep on the living room's sofa. He swallowed hard then he moved forward.

As he took deliberate steps down the hall, his heart pounded in his chest. He thought it might give him away at one point, the sound was so loud. When he reached the end of it, he glanced between the two closed doors. Hoping he'd estimated correctly, he went for the one on the right.

Once open, he peered through the crack, instantly relieved to find he'd chose the doctor's room. The Patil woman was asleep in the bed. He stepped inside, then stopped to take a deep breath and prepare himself. Just kill her. Kill her and take her body to the nearest crossroads. Then it would be over.

He positioned himself on one side of the bed. The lightning flashed again and glinted off of the strange pendant around her neck. After he let out a shaky breath, he wrapped both hands around the blade's handle.

"I'm sorry, lady," he whispered.

"I'm not."

Startled when he heard someone speak behind him, Felton turned. No more than he did so, a fist landed in the middle of his face. He was propelled backward by the force of it and hit the wall so hard he dropped the knife.

The light flicked on and Felton, his hands clutching his bloody nose, saw the shorter guy in front of him. Beyond him, just inside of the doorway, were the other guy and a woman, both armed. The doctor herself was awake now. She stared down on him with the most indecipherable expression on her face.

"Get up," Dean growled as he grabbed Felton by his wet coat and hauled him to his feet. He slammed Felton's back against the wall. "Thought you were pretty slick, huh?"

Sam leaned over and picked up the knife as Dean continued to talk.

"Did you _really_ think you'd just walk in here and kill somebody? That we didn't see you out there earlier?" He shoved him against the wall again, even harder. "What are we, fucking stupid?"

"Dean, look at this." He held up the knife so his brother could get a clear view. "You ever see anything like this before?"

Dean studied it. Some of the symbols looked familiar but none of them were arranged in a manner which made sense to him. "No." He looked to Felton. "Where'd you get it?"

Felton glanced between them. "I can't say."

"That bitch gave it to you, didn't she?"

"I don't know anything about it," Felton replied as he looked from Sam to Dean. "Only that she told me to use it to summon her after I completely this ... task." He glanced at Shanti, who stood behind Ellen now. "I only did what she told me. I _had_ to."

Sam brought the knife to the doctor. "Does any of this make sense to you?" he asked as he held it out to her.

She accepted it and carefully examined the markings. "It's an Enochi blade," she answered as she looked to them. "They're _extremely_ rare."

Dean glanced over his shoulder. "What's it do, besides summon bitches from Hell?"

"Actually, it doesn't _summon_ anything," she explained. She ran her finger over the symbols. "One of its most common uses is as a key. A sort of secret passage key, that is."

"Secret passage?" Sam repeated.

"One of its abilities is to create a minor crack between this world and the otherworld. One so insignificant, it goes undetected by either side, even if they're keeping track of such a thing." Her gaze settled on the Winchesters. "She needs it in order to leave Hell, without being summoned as a normal summon leaves a ... a sort of 'paper trail'."

"Why would she do that?"

Shanti recalled the things the demon intimated to her the previous night, things she never would've had she known Shanti was destined to survive. "Obviously, she's doing something she isn't supposed to be."

Dean shoved a forearm into Felton's throat. "What's she up to?"

"She didn't tell me anything." He coughed as Dean let up on him.

"You said that was _one_ of its uses," Ellen commented as she motioned to the knife. "What're the others?"

Her gaze dropped to the knife again. "There are only myths. As I said, they're _extremely_ rare. No one is certain what else one could do."

"Where'd _she_ get it?" Sam wondered.

Shanti shrugged. "I couldn't begin to fathom."

Dean grabbed Felton by the coat again and pulled him closer. "Let's ask our buddy here."

"I told you, I don't know anything!"

"Why don't you tell us something you _do_ know?"

-

"Here you are, Mr. Howard."

Felton raised his head to find the doctor standing in front of where he was seated on the sofa. The woman held out a damp washcloth to him. "Thank you," he murmured as he accepted it. He wiped away the blood from his face and hands.

"You gonna tell us what's goin' on?" Dean asked after a few seconds of glaring at the man. He sat in the armchair, the Enochi blade firmly grasped in his right hand, with its flat side tapping against one of his legs.

Felton glanced at Ellen then Sam, both stood just behind the doctor. He sighed. "A few days ago, the demon showed up at my house and offered me a way out of the deal I'd made." He stared at the bloody rag. "At first, she just wanted me to kidnap you." He glanced at the doctor. "But I wasn't expecting you guys to be there."

"What happened then?" Shanti asked.

"She told me I had to take it to the 'next level', that I had to ... kill you."

"_You're_ the one who blew up the house?" Sam asked, almost amazed, as he glanced at Dean.

Dean looked to Shanti and pointed to Felton as he smugly declared, "I told you we didn't do anything to your house. _He_ did."

"It wasn't me." He paused when they all focused on him. "I didn't get there until after it'd happened. I'd assumed you'd been killed. That'd I'd gotten lucky. In a way." He looked away from Shanti. "Later, I found out you'd survived. The demon was so pissed, her lackey said the deal was off."

"Obviously she had a change of heart," Ellen said. "You came here, with that." She gestured to the knife in Dean's possession.

"She gave me no choice."

"What do you mean, she gave you no choice?"

"She said if I didn't kill her this time, at sunrise, when my '_revised_' contract is officially up, she'd ..." His voice caught in his throat. "She said her hellhounds would kill my daughter, Julia, too, when they came for me."

Ellen looked from Sam and Dean to Shanti. "Can they do that? Thought they could only go after the one who'd made the deal?"

Sam shrugged. "They came after me when I was with Evan Hudson." He looked to Shanti. "Did they try to come after you?"

"No."

"Doesn't matter now," Felton sighed as he buried his face in his palms. "A few more hours, the sun's up and it's done." He drew in a breath as he sat straight. "I've killed her again. Once wasn't enough."

"Once wasn't enough?" Shanti asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Felton focused his bleary gaze on her. "I'm the reason she died the first time. And my wife, Angie, too."

"Where is she? Your wife?" asked Ellen.

"She's ... still dead. Has been for five years." He sighed as he sat back on the sofa, his eyes locked on the water-stained ceiling. "I was too drunk to drive that night, but I did anyway. I don't remember much, just the dark road, the rainstorm ... then coming to." He closed his eyes. "The car was overturned. I was still alive but they ... " He shook his head. "It was _my_ fault."

"Then you summoned the demon and brought back your daughter?"

Felton looked to Dean. "My original plan was to get the both of them back."

"She wouldn't do it?"

He flicked his gaze to Sam. "She wasn't too happy when I argued it with her. Two lives, ten years – it was a fair enough trade." He sighed. "She didn't see it that way. I had to choose which one she would bring back."

"So you chose your daughter," Ellen said. She couldn't imagine what kind of awful struggle he'd went through. To decide between his wife and his child? She thought of her husband, Jo ... then knew she could never have picked one over the other.

"She turned my own reasoning against me, however." His eyes narrowed, his features hardened. "One life would equal five years." He heavily sighed. "I'm not a bad guy, I don't kidnap or murder people. I just work, come home, and spend what time I can with my daughter." He focused on Shanti. "I'm really sorry. I didn't have any choice. Julia needs me. She's ... she's not like she was."

"How is she different?" Sam asked. He glanced at Dean, but his brother had an odd expression on his face after Felton had said what he did.

He let out a long breath. "She's ... just never really been 'Julia'. She was so happy before. Friendly. Enjoyed being with other kids. She sang all of the time and laughed a lot." He shook his head. "After she came back, she didn't laugh or smile. The light was gone from her eyes. She spends so much time alone in her room. Then ... she has these dreams ..."

"Dreams?"

"She drew pictures of what she saw. A faceless female figure surrounded with a bright light. The only time she's even remotely happy is when she talks about it. Says she feels like she belongs there."

Shanti looked to Sam and noted the expression on his face. She frowned, more sympathetic than anything else.

"She's just not the same little girl. Doctors don't know what's wrong. Neither do the psychologists. I've tried everything."

"It's the same thing, isn't it, Doctor?"

Shanti looked to Sam again, then nodded. "Yes."

Felton glanced between them. "You know what's wrong with her? How to fix it?"

"Yes. I know both answers."

Ellen's brow furrowed. "What are you two talkin' about?" She focused on Sam. "You know what's ailin' his little girl?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"What is it?"

Shanti's gaze shifted to Dean. He'd been unusually quiet the past few minutes. She saw the way he watched her, almost as though he was barely containing his anger. He didn't like to hear the consequences of his actions, she knew. Especially when it came to how it had affected Sam.

"His daughter's soul is trapped here," she began as she shifted her attention to Ellen. "She'd begun her new journey after she died. He upset a balance with his deal. Her soul suffers now, and it will only become worse as time goes by." Her gaze rested on Felton. "If she isn't allowed to leave this world, Mr. Howard, I can't begin to imagine what it may do to her, spiritually."

Tears slid down his cheeks. "She died because of me. How could I leave her dead when I could bring her back? How? She was only four years old. She ..." His voice caught in his throat again as he bowed his head. "I couldn't leave her that way ..."

"Which is more painful, Mr. Howard: living without Julia or her living and in such obvious misery?"

Dean glanced at Sam. His brother's was ... blank. Nothing. Absolutely no emotion registered, that bothered him more than anything else. He rose to his feet and startled them with a forceful announcement.

"Why don't we figure out what the hell we're going to do here?" He paused as they looked to him. "This guy doesn't have long. Sunrise ain't far off." He looked to Shanti. "You're the expert. Maybe you'll tell _him_ how he can save himself?"

Felton, wide-eyed, stared at the doctor. "You can give me a way out?"

She bowed her head. "No, I'm sorry, but it's too late for any of my knowledge to help you." She glanced at Dean, who glared at her once again.

His face fell. "If I don't do something ..."

"If it's me she wants, then she'll have it."

"_What_?" Sam incredulously asked.

Shanti sighed as she adjusted her glasses. "If it will put an end to all of this, I'll give over."

"Give _up_, you mean." He shook his head, baffled. "What about your sister?"

"The other day, I told you a greater force had pushed me to action. I wasn't quite certain for what purpose. Until now." She motioned to Felton. "Perhaps I'm not meant to help Leila. Perhaps I'm meant to help _him_."

Sam just stared at her for a moment before he said, "I can't believe you'd give up your life's work so easily. It's your _sister_." In the next instant, his confusion turned to resolve. "I can't let you. There's another way."

"Sam -" Dean started.

"There _is_ no other way. This is what is meant to be. I've told you -" She glanced at Dean. "- the both of you, there is no such thing as coincidence or chance or luck." Her own face hardened with resolve. "This is my decision."

Sam's teeth gritted. He knew it was pointless to continue the argument, but he didn't want to abandon it, though. Still, he couldn't believe she would simply give up her sister, leave her to whatever horrors she'd experienced the past fifteen years in Hell.

"All right," he quietly said. "But you're not going alone." Before she could object, he added, "Nothing you say will stop me from going with you."

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Dean roughly grabbed Sam by the shirt then pulled him to the far corner of the living room. Once out of earshot, he hissed, "Do you have any idea what might happen if that demon saw us there?" The warning she'd given him, of what would happen if he attempted to get out of the deal, trap her, or anything, ran though his mind: Sam's life was forfeit. "She wants to go, fine. This is _her_ decision."

"It's the _wrong_ one."

"When are you gonna realize people are entitled to make whatever wrong decisions they want? It's free will, brother, and it's never gonna change. She thinks it'll help somebody, that's reason enough to let her do it."

"Oh, so you're on _her _side now?" He lightly scoffed as he made a gesture with his hand. "Just let her go. Who cares if she ends up dead? Even if we might've been able to do something?"

Dean's grip on Sam's shirt tightened as he tried to control his rising anger. And fear. "We can't, that's the point," he growled. "Besides, it's the same bitch I made my deal with. If she sees me there, she might decide to collect on _two_ contracts today. Or, even worse, renege on mine."

"_That's_ what this is about - not her or this poor guy, but _you_." His face went nearly blank again as he narrowed his eyes. "I don't care if she decides to renege. I won't let someone go into a situation like this alone."

"Sam -"

"I'm not scared of being dead anymore," he stated. "It's really not that bad." He paused as Dean's anger turned into bewilderment. "But then _you_ wouldn't know what it's like ... would you, Dean?"

He let go of Sam's shirt as he stepped back, almost as though his brother's words had physically smacked him in the face. What'd gotten into _him_?

"Stay here if you want."

"Sam -" Dean caught his arm. When Sam finally looked at him, he let out a breath. "All right. _We'll_ go." He felt Sam relax a little. "But we don't let her see us. I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish, but I'm not taking any chances. We just keep an eye on them. Good enough?"

Sam studied him. It wasn't exactly the offer he'd hoped for, yet he understood Dean's reluctance. He'd been hard on Dean for his deal, called him on his selfishness, but he could see the total fear in his brother's eyes right then.

"Fine," he shortly replied.

Dean relaxed. He just hoped they wouldn't be seen. The thought of not even making it a _month_ without fucking this up scared him almost as much as the prospect of losing Sam again.

-

End Chapter Eleven


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

--------------

Dean cut off the engine before he looked in the rear-view mirror at Shanti and Felton. The man appeared terrified and rightfully so. The doctor, though, had no expression whatsoever. Finally, he turned in the seat. "Sam and I are gonna stay here." He glanced around. He hoped the trees and lack of light would cloak the car where he'd parked it just off of the crossroads. Times like these, he was glad he had a black paint job.

"All right, then," Shanti simply replied as she sifted through her duffel bag. "I'm still unsure of why the two of you are even here."

Dean glanced at Sam. "You're not the only one."

Sam ignored him. Instead, he watched Shanti remove a flat, smooth rectangular piece of wood from the bag. "What's that?"

She held it up so they could see the flat side. "A prayer to Durga. I always keep one with me."

"As protection from demons."

"Among other things," she added. She shifted her gaze to Felton. "Are you prepared?"

"I ... I think so." He looked to Sam and Dean. "You'll take care of Julia? In case this doesn't go right?"

"Ellen promised to keep an eye on her until she could find a permanent home," Sam assured him.

"She'll do it. She's a dependable ally," Dean added.

Sam looked to him, surprised to hear Dean use the word 'ally' in relation to anyone outside of the family, and Bobby.

Felton tried to smile. "Thank you."

Dean watched the two get out of the car, then head for the crossroads. He and Sam could see it clearly enough through the trees from the car. He shifted his attention to the back of Sam's head. "You didn't fail anybody," he quietly said. "Maybe this was always what she was meant to do."

"She doesn't _know_ that." Sam looked over his shoulder. "How do we know what we're meant to do? Yellow Eyes seemed pretty sure _I_ was meant to survive that game of his. But I didn't. No one truly_ knows_ what they're meant to do, Dean."

"What if you were meant to come back?" he suggested. "She said there is no such thing as coincidence. Funny, a few months before it happened, we find a crossroads demon. The same one who brought you back."

Sam stared at him a moment before he turned his attention to the passenger's side window. "If that's true, and I _was_ meant to come back ..." He paused before he looked back over his shoulder to his brother. "Then for what purpose?"

'Are you sure what you brought back is 100 percent pure Sammy?'

Dean blinked as the sound of Sam's gun firing, when he so mercilessly murdered that Jake kid, echoed through his mind. He saw Sam watching him, a strange look in his eyes.

"I don't know, Sam."

-

Felton held the knife in both hands as he knelt in the middle of the muddy crossroads. Yet, he didn't plunge the knife into the ground. He couldn't stop thinking about Angie.

He'd never considered how she would've reacted to all of this. She was a very Christian woman and would've been horrified at what he'd done to "save" their daughter.

'Everything happens for a reason, Felton,' she would say. No matter how tough the times, no matter how sad life would be at that moment, she looked for meaning in what appeared to be meaningless.

"Mr. Howard." Shanti knelt beside him as she placed a hand to his shoulder. She saw the sadness in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Doctor, I can't ask you to do this," he sighed. "I want Julia to be safe, but ... not at the cost of another person's life."

"I can't explain my reasons to you. However, you may rest assured that my life, my blood is not on your hands. Your conscience and your karma are clear." She motioned to the ground. "Hurry. Before it's too late."

Felton pressed his lips together as he nodded. After a hesitation, he drove the blade into the soft earth. The response was almost instantaneous.

The blonde woman, whom Shanti recognized from the roadside establishment the previous evening, stood three meters in front of them. Despite the mud, the demon's high-heeled shoes didn't sink. She seemed to defy gravity in that sense. She watched the two humans rise.

"Hello, dear," she greeted through gritted teeth. "I hadn't expected to see you." Her glare shifted to Felton. "At least, not _alive_. Do you just not understand my instructions, Felton? Or are you trying to get your little girl killed? Some father _you_ are."

Shanti glanced at the forearm of the demon's host body. The marking was there once again, which meant she was able to leave the crossroads if she so chose. Casually, Shanti flicked her gaze in the direction of the Winchesters' car. She prayed the demon did not see them.

"I'm sorry -"

The demon grabbed Felton by the throat. "Your apologies bore me. I won't listen to another."

"I may not be dead, asura, but I _am_ here," Shanti stated as she came towards her. She nodded to Felton. "He's done his duty. His daughter will be left alone. He will be released from his contract."

An eyebrow lifted. "You do not command _me_, human. No matter what religious voodoo you may be packing." She motioned to the bit of wood clutched in Shanti's hand. "Do you honestly believe you'll frighten me with that?"

"This?" Shanti held it up. "It's only a piece of wood. But this -" She ran her fingers over the words engraved upon it in Hindi. "- calls upon a power greater than any of your kind. Or any of mine, for that matter."

"Then call it," the demon scoffed. "I'd like to meet one of these gods you humans so mindlessly worship and pray to for protection."

Shanti smiled. "There is no need, asura." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's already here."

The blonde's eyes nervously glanced around before they narrowed in aggravation when she heard the other woman laugh. "The deal is void," she snapped. "I asked for _dead_, he couldn't deliver it." She looked to Felton. "In a few minutes, you'll be in Hell and your daughter will be puppy chow."

The blood drained from his face as he cried out, "NO! Please! I've done what you asked! She's here!"

"_Asura_."

The demon, stunned by the forceful tone in Shanti's voice, looked to her. She saw the total resolve in the human's eyes. Without even knowing why, she released the man.

"I've come here to settle this man's debt to you," she continued as she stepped forward; her eyes never left the demon's. "I willingly take on the contract of Felton Howard."

Her bemusement quickly turned into defiant outrage. "No," she coldly replied. "I refuse!"

"You can't." Shanti shook her head. "It's against the rules. Rules by which you are bound to honor, no matter what _you_ may want."

She stepped back. As she did, Felton began to look around, terror in his eyes. "I will not!" she declared as she pointed a finger at the doctor. "I most certainly _will not_!"

"Do you hear that?" Felton turned in circles. The sounds of the hellhounds grew louder with each passing moment. His heart raced and the panic set in. They were coming. "Oh, God, please! Julia!" He dropped to his knees as he covered his ears with both hands. "Please, don't do this!"

"You cannot do this!" Shanti looked from Felton who cowered on the ground to the defiant crossroads demon, who only continued to back away. "I offered my life in place of his!"

A cruel smile crept to the beautiful blonde's face. "It's sunrise, bitch." She nodded to the overcast sky. "All of his chances to escape are gone." She laughed. "Nothing can save him now."

-

"Something's wrong."

Dean lifted his head just in time to see Sam climb out of the car.

"Sam!" He made a desperate lunging grab for his brother but missed him by mere inches. "Shit!" He saw Sam running for the crossroads. The demon, now in some poor blonde girl's body, was still there. "Son of a bitch. Sam, NO!"

Quickly, he opened his own door.

-

"Make it stop!" Felton, now doubled over, begged as tears streamed down his face. He heard the howls, the snarls, they were coming.

Shanti quickly used the slip of wood to draw a circle in the mud large enough to contain both her and Felton.

The demon's laughter ceased when she saw her hounds unable to penetrate the simple line in the mud. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she came towards them. "This is impossible!" she screamed.

Sam slid to a halt when he saw the simple circle in the mud which was surrounded by animal prints. He couldn't hear them or see them, but he knew they were there. As he looked up, he met the gaze of the demon. The one responsible for everything.

"_You_ ..." she hissed. "What are _you_ doing here?" Her anger turned to surprise when Dean Winchester stopped behind him.

"Sam!" Shanti tossed the piece of wood to him then gestured to her own circle. "Quickly!"

He hesitated. He couldn't believe it. No drawn circle could keep anything out. They needed salt. Something more than a _stick_.

Dean grabbed the prayer stick and hurriedly drew a circle in the mud around the both of them. As soon as he stood straight, he noticed the amazement on Sam's face. He didn't have a chance to say anything, though. They both jumped as at least one of the hounds attempted to attack them.

"What are you doing here?" the demon demanded as she pointed to them, Dean in particular. "Don't you remember what I told you? What would happen if you tried to fuck with me?"

"I'm not here to fuck with you!" Dean defensively yelled in response. He glanced at the mud being kicked up by the invisible hound. "There's no way I'd try to!"

Sam glanced between them, curious. And somewhat confused. He'd thought Dean was just being overly paranoid about his deal. It seemed like there was more to it than he'd let on.

"You can't hide in that little circle forever." She narrowed her eyes at Shanti and Felton. "I'm very patient when I need to be. I'll wait. All day and all night."

Shanti placed her hands on Felton's shoulders. "Felton, look at me." When he lifted his head, his fear and tear-filled eyes met hers. "She's wrong. You have one last chance to save yourself. And your daughter."

"How?"

The demon ran up to them as she heard what Shanti said. She was kept back from them by the same mysterious force which held her hounds at bay. "You _shut up_!" she commanded. "Don't lie to him! It's over!"

Shanti placed her hands on his face, to keep his attention on her. "_She's_ the one who is lying. You have the power to end this. Only _you_."

He nodded. The glimmer of hope of salvation helped to drown out the snarls of the dogs. "What can I do?"

"NO!" The demon tried to get inside again but was bounced back. Her hands balled into fists as she growled.

"You have to give her back," Shanti evenly said. She saw the realization of what she meant hit him. "You have to give her back to the universe, Felton. Where she should be."

"I ... I can't."

"Felton, she cannot harm your daughter. She lied to you, in order to force you to do something you would've never contemplated otherwise."

"Then she can just take my soul. I can't let Julia die again. She didn't have the chance to live."

"Do you truly wish for Julia to suffer for the rest of her life?" She tilted her head to one side. "She'll never be the same girl. She needs to continue on, before the damage is irreparable, Felton. You can save both of your souls."

He closed his eyes as he continued to shake his head.

"Felton." She turned his head as he opened his eyes. "Look at her." She nodded to the livid demon. "With absolutely no reason other than it's what's proper and selfless in your heart, give Julia back."

Dean and Sam couldn't move, or hardly breathe, as they listened to her. The fact the words only threw more fuel onto the demon's rage suggested she was right. This _was_ a way out.

"Do it for your daughter. Not yourself." She sat back, her hands dropped away from his face. "Do what you should've five years ago. Let her go."

Felton stared deep into the yellow eyes. For the first time, the tables were turned - _she_ was terrified of _him_. _He _had the control. He let out a long breath. "I ... I want to give her back," he softly said.

The demon stepped forward as though it was against her own will. Then, in the same manner, she asked, "Why?"

He swallowed and sat a little straighter. "I can't stand to watch her suffer anymore. I love her. Please, just take her back. She ... she deserves to be with her mother."

As soon as the words were spoken, the hounds were silenced. The demon herself blinked, like she'd come out of a hypnotic trance. Dean and Sam both looked to the ground. The mud no longer moved. As they looked up, the doctor and Felton stepped outside of the protective circle.

Dean looked to Sam as Sam did the same. "I'll be goddamned," he murmured in amazement. "It worked."

Shanti put her arms around Felton as he broke down into tears again. "You've done the right thing," she assured him. "Julia is where she belongs. She'll be fine."

The demon's eyes narrowed as she watched the doctor comfort the man. She'd made her look a fool. Worse yet, she'd done it in front of Dean Winchester. A blow to her credibility with him that she couldn't afford, not if she wanted her plans to succeed. Her gaze fell on the knife still stuck in the ground. Her rage reignited, she snatched it up and trudged towards Shanti.

Dean saw the demon headed straight for the doctor, with the knife clutched in one of her hands. He pushed Sam aside and bolted forward to cut her off before she could reach the other woman.

Sam turned just as Dean seized the demon by the wrist with the knife and then, through expert maneuvering, ended up with the demon in a choke-hold and the blade of the knife to her throat.

"Are you stupid?" the demon exclaimed as she struggled with him. "Do you realize what a mistake you've made?"

"I made a deal with you, bitch." He tightened his grip on her as he pressed the blade closer to her neck. "What's one more?"

"What's your plan, Dean? Are you going to _kill_ me?" She ran her fingers over his hand which held the knife to her neck. "You can't kill me, I'm a _demon_. The only one who'll die here is this very pretty little girl." She smiled. "You wouldn't _want_ to kill another innocent human being, would you?"

Dean glanced at Sam then looked to Shanti and Felton. He didn't know what the hell his plan was. He'd just acted without even thinking. Typical.

"Really, darling, if _someone_ has to die today, why not someone worth it?" she purred. She leaned her head back against him, her smile more seductive. "Someone whose death would ... benefit you. Hmm?"

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

"I'm babbling about freedom, Dean. Freedom from your deal with me." Her fingers continued to gingerly caress his hand. "As well as being able to keep little brother alive." She paused when she felt his grip on her loosen. "Does it ... interest you? Release from your deal, no strings attached?"

Dean looked to Sam, who just shook his head.

Her hand stopped, her fingers curled around the blade. "Does it?" She felt his hold on the knife go and she took it into her own hand. Smiling, she turned around in his arms until she faced him. The expression on his face was classic – so _conflicted_. She placed her empty hand flat on his chest. "You kill her, and I'll release you. No tricks, no lies."

"Dean ..." Sam approached them. "You aren't seriously _listening_ to this -" He shut up when the demon shot him a wicked glare.

"What do you care about her?" the demon asked as she smiled up at Dean. "What is she to you? Nothing." She gently ran the tip of the blade down his chest. "Besides, it's not as though you haven't killed a few humans before." Her free hand gripped the back of his neck. "Gets easier each time you do it. What does it matter when you're saving the world?" She turned his head so he looked at Sam. "Or the only thing in it you even care about?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean." He saw the look in his brother's eyes. He'd seen it before. She was getting to him. "We don't _need_ her."

Pushing herself onto her tip-toes, she leaned closer to Dean's ear. "Yes, you _do_," she hotly whispered. "She can't offer you the release I can. You saw what she made poor Felton do." She paused. "Made him give back his precious daughter, to save his own skin. Are you prepared to do that, Dean? Give Sam back? Give him back ... to_ me_?" Her smile turned sinister when she saw a tear slide down his cheek.

Dean slowly shifted his gaze back to the demon. He glanced beyond her, to the doctor, who watched him with a blank expression on her face.

"Say 'yes'," she whispered, her lips brushed against his as she did. "Seal the deal. Then shove _this_ -" The blade pressed against his chest. "- right into her heart." She smiled even wider when she felt his hand latch onto hers which held the knife. "That's my boy."

Her eyes closed as she prepared for the next step. But what was expected wasn't what happened. They flew open when she felt Dean grab her by both wrists. Before she could react, she was hurled away with such force, she lost her balance. She, along with the Enoch blade, landed roughly in a puddle of muddy water.

"You ... you idiot!" she shrieked as she looked up at him. He stared down on her with no emotion on his face. "You've made a grave mistake!"

Dean shrugged as he ruefully smiled. "Like I said, what's one more?" The smile vanished. "Did you really think I'd do that?" He pointed to Shanti. "I may not like that woman, but I'm not a cold-blooded killer, bitch."

She slammed a fist into the mud as Dean walked towards Sam. "Wait until I get you in Hell, Dean Winchester!" she snarled. "You'll regret this! I'll hurt in ways you never even knew were possible!"

"Let's get out of here," Dean muttered as he passed Sam.

Sam turned as Dean continued on by him, relieved he'd not given into the temptation. For a moment, he thought Dean might've actually done it. Even though it was only a moment, it was one which scared the hell out of him.

The demon's eyes narrowed as she watched Dean leave. That bastard would suffer like no other soul had in the history of Hell. She'd twist him until he broke. Her gaze slid to Sam, who had his back to her. Slowly, a grin crept to her face as she looked from the knife in her hand to him again. "Why wait?" she murmured.

Shanti kept her eyes on Dean as he passed by, and she caught the very brief glance he threw her way. She, too, believed he might've accepted the demon's offer. A desperate person would do desperate things. But he hadn't. He'd overcome his own selfishness and made the right decision. She wished he would eventually understand the right decisions weren't always beneficial to one's self. At least, not in this world.

She looked to Sam. Her eyes widened when she saw the demon, Enochi blade in one hand, headed for the younger Winchester, murderous determination on her human face. Without even realizing she was doing it, she frantically called out.

"Sam! Look out!"

Sam, startled by the sheer alarm in the doctor's voice, looked to her.

Dean stopped as well, and looked over his shoulder to find the blonde closed in on Sam, the muddied knife poised to kill.

Images from that night flashed through his mind: Of Sam, completely unaware Jake came at him from behind. The look of shock and pain on his face after he'd been stabbed. The utter agony he himself felt at Sam dying right in front of him ... and he was powerless to stop it.

"SAM! NO!" He ran toward him. "Behind you! SAM!!"

-

End Chapter Twelve


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

--------------------

Sam pivoted on a heel just as the crossroads demon was propelled backwards by an unseen force. Baffled, he stood frozen as he watched her slide to a stop about twenty feet away. Then she didn't move at all.

"Sam!" Dean gasped as he reached him. He grabbed his brother by the jacket. "Are you okay?"

"I think s - " He jerked as Dean turned him around. "What are you doing?"

When he found no physical damage, Dean let out a relieved breath. "Nothin'," he answered. "It's nothin'."

Groaning, the demon planted both hands in the mud as she pushed torso up from the ground. To her right, she saw a confused Sam Winchester, trying to assure Dean he was fine. Her eyes narrowed to slits. How did _that_ happen? From what she'd heard, the little bastard was powerless now.

"Hi, sweetie!" a familiar voice brightly greeted.

Her gaze slid to her left. Squatted beside her, the Enochi blade in his hands, was her elder demon lackey. And wearing a wide grin.

"I didn't call for you. What are you doing here?" she snapped. Then another thought hit her. "But since you are ... why don't you do something for me?"

He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Sorry," he sighed then shrugged. "Those days are over."

Her smile vanished. "What?" she growled. "How _dare_ you -"

"You're pretty naïve," he interrupted. "To think someone like you would be able to coerce someone like _me_ into working for you?" His expression turned to disgust. "It's that kind of stupidity which keeps you 'crossroads' demons where you are." He tapped the tip of the blade to his temple. "No capacity for higher level thought."

"You ... _you've_ been going against me? You're the one who's been ruining my plans?"

"Oh, no. Not me. I was just support." He grinned and nodded beyond her. "_There's_ the real mastermind."

The demon's head whipped around and her anger turned to shock (and fear). "No ... " she breathed.

"What was that?" Dean asked. "That wasn't ... _you_, was it?" He hoped he hadn't sounded too worried when he said it. He couldn't get all of that shit out of his head. About the possibility of Sam not being fully Sam anymore.

Sam shook his head. "Wasn't me."

"No, it was _me_," a new voice stated.

Both looked up to find a familiar blonde woman, dressed in jeans and a fitted burgundy leather blazer, standing not far from Shanti and a very confused Felton.

"I know you," Dean said as he pointed to her. He snapped his fingers. "The diner, in Missouri! The waitress."

She smiled as she walked toward them. As she did, Shanti noticed the new woman passed through both of the Durga circles without any trouble. Nothing purely evil could penetrate one, even if it wasn't occupied by someone within its protection. The fact this new woman managed to cross it meant one of two things ...

"I'm more than a mere waitress." She stopped a few feet away and glanced between them, as if she'd expected something. Finally, she sighed. "I just saved Sammy's life. _You_ should thank me at least, Dean. For doing what you couldn't."

His eyes narrowed at her.

"Who _are_ you?"

Eyebrows lifted, she looked to Sam. "That really hurts, especially coming from _you_." She sidled closer, took hold of his jacket, then gazed at him with a coy smile. "After all, we were so ... intimate for an entire week," she purred as she gave him a once over. "How _is_ this body of yours?" A hand lazily trailed down his chest. "I wasn't too _rough_ on it, I hope?"

When he realized whom the woman truly was, Sam shoved her away. "Meg ..."

With a huff, she folded her arms across her chest. "Isn't that a fine how do you do to the girl who saved your life? And your brother's. Not to mention those two." She jerked a thumb behind her to Shanti and Felton. "I'm four for four today and do I even get a simple 'thank you'?" She pouted. "No."

"Thanks?" Dean repeated. "You want 'thanks'?" He drew his 9MM and pointed it in her face. "How's this for 'thanks'?"

She sighed. "You'll never change. Here I am, going out of my way to help and all you can do is shove your little gun in my face? How rude." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what are you going to accomplish? Other than messing up my pretty new body?"

"It isn't yours."

She held up her hands as she took a step back. "Why don't we stop this useless fighting, mmmkay?" she suggested. She looked from Dean to Sam. "Gimme a chance to show you I'm not the bad guy here."

Dean smirked. "You're a demon, how can you be a 'good guy' anywhere?"

"Who is this?"

They all looked to Shanti, who now stood near Meg, a curious expression on her face. She glanced from the gun pointed at the young blonde woman to Dean.

Meg pleasantly smiled. "An old friend of the boys' here," she replied. "We go way back." Her gaze shifted to them as her smile turned more devious. "Don't we, boys?"

"Speakin' of goin' back, why don't we help you back to Hell?" Dean suggested, smiling in return.

"You're an asura?"

Meg lifted an eyebrow at Shanti. "One way to put it, but yeah. Unfortunately, I can't seem to convince these two I'm on their side for once."

Shanti glanced at Meg's bootprints which led through the circles. "What do you want from them?"

"I don't _want_ anything." She looked to them. "If I did, would I be standing here having a chat with you? I'd have taken it and gone."

Sam put a hand on Dean's wrist and gently pushed the gun down until the barrel pointed to the ground. When Dean looked at him, puzzled, he said, "I think she'd have killed us by now, if that's what she wanted to do."

Meg smugly smiled. "There's a reason we call _him_ the 'smart one'."

"I should've known you were up to something, you bitch!" the mud-covered crossroads demon snarled as she was brought over by the other elder. She glared at the Winchesters before focused on Meg. "Everyone said you'd changed."

"I believe this belongs to you," the elder demon commented as he handed the knife over to Meg. "Thanks for the loaner, it certainly sped things along."

Meg ran a finger over the flat side of the blade. "Pristine condition. Since I have everything that belongs to me, I'll be going." She managed two steps before Dean grabbed her arm. She looked to him, curious and a bit surprised. "I'm leaving. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I want to know what's been going on the past four days." He nodded to the crossroads demon. "Why she wants me so goddamn much she's watching every move I make. What was all of this about?"

"You didn't figure it out?" After he simply shrugged, Meg laughed. "Who dropped the good doctor's name to pathetically desperate little brother over there?" She nodded to Sam. "Who guided everything along just so, until the outcome became this?" She gestured to the crossroads they stood within. When neither one seemed to have a clue, she gestured to herself. "Me." She glanced at Shanti. "She didn't even tell you about the demon's plans?"

"It wasn't necessary," she simply stated as she avoided looking Dean in the eye. She focused her attention on Meg as she added, "It wouldn't have happened."

"What wouldn't have happened?" Sam asked, just as confused as Dean.

"An upset of the balance of power in Hell," Meg replied. She saw the looks they wore, then sighed in frustration. "Don't tell me you thought the Gate incident didn't have adverse consequences in Hell itself?" She scoffed. "Typical human arrogance."

"Since you know everything, why don't _you_ explain?" Dean snapped, tightening his grip on her arm.

She glanced between the brothers. "You only know a lot of demons escaped." Her eyes narrowed a little. "However, most of them were elder demons, the ones who maintained order in Hell, kept certain sects of lower demons in their places."

"Like our girl here," added the other demon as he yanked on the hair of the crossroads demon's host. "Isn't that right?" He smiled. "Ever since the Gate opened, many of the lower demons have been coming up with half-assed plans in lame attempts to grab more power than they're entitled to."

Meg nodded to the other blonde. "She's just been working on hers a _lot_ longer. The Gate provided the opportunity for a take over of Hell."

"How?"

"With the only beings who have the power to overthrow the elder demons – human souls. And my father's mislaid plans provided someone who would allow her pull it off." She looked to Dean. "You were _so_ desperate to save Sam, you never bothered to wonder why she bargained you down to a single year. If not for me, you would've caused a bigger problem down there than the one you're gonna have up here."

"Why me?"

She heavily sighed. "Think about it! You're one of the most violent humans around, you've got all of the ideal traits for a coup leader, and half of Hell is already terrified of you. Also, you would've never said no to her." She pointed to Sam. "She had him to hang over your head." Her gaze shifted to the other elder. "I can't believe I kept getting outsmarted by this moron."

"If this was to keep a coup from happening, why involve us?" Sam asked. "Why not just tell the other demons still in Hell? Wouldn't _they_ have handled it? What was the point of putting us, putting her -" He motioned to Shanti "- through all of this?"

"Little Miss Big Plans had to learn the hard way it's not smart to play above her pay grade." Meg's eyes glimmered as she smiled at them. "Besides, I've kind of missed you. The good times we always have when we're together. Entertaining as all get-out, that's for sure. You Winchesters never fail to bring your A game where the drama's concerned."

"You're one twisted bitch," Dean muttered as he shook his head.

Meg shyly smiled. "Aww, you're only _saying_ that!" she replied with a girly giggle.

"In short, you dragged us into this for nothing," Sam said as he glared at her. "Risked innocent lives for no real reason other than it was ... _fun_?"

She shrugged. "Sort of."

"_Sort of_?" he repeated.

"I'm sure _she_ thinks there's a bigger reason." She nodded to Shanti. "You should know how she is by now, all the quality time you've shared." Her gaze slid to the woman. "Actually, I did hope to meet you. A lot of us were impressed with the way you dealt with the last crossroads demon who found you." She noted the surprise on the brothers' faces. "She didn't tell you that story either?"

Dean looked to Shanti. "She didn't tell us a lot of shit, apparently."

"She managed to talk a crossroads demon into dissolving all of her contracts, then to simply walk away from her life in Hell." Meg chuckled as she shook her head. "Like I said, impressive feat."

"Caused a huge mess below, too," the other elder added. "You have no idea the kind of paperwork something like that generates. They're_ still_ sorting it out."

"Well!" Meg brightly declared as she pulled her arm away from Dean. "Since everything's fine, we'll be on our merry way." The three demons started to leave.

"Wait a minute," Dean said as he turned around.

Meg stopped and faced him. "What is it _now_?"

"What's to stop her from screwing with my contract, as some kind of revenge?" he demanded as he pointed to the filthy blonde. "She already tried to kill Sam. Maybe she'll try again."

"She won't bother you, little Sammy or the good doctor anymore," Meg assured him. "It's beyond her power." She paused. "Or until she's _allowed_ to, in your case, precious." She grinned at Dean. "I'll be sure to visit you after that happens. Someone has to let Sam know you're okay. At least _tell_ him you are." After giving him a wink, she turned again.

"I really _hate_ her," Dean grumbled as he looked to Sam.

"One other thing!" Meg called out as she faced them once more. She raised the Enochi blade. "Thanks so much for returning this. It's part of my father's collection. I've already lost one piece to you guys. And I certainly couldn't have left a knife with the power to kill demons in human hands. Especially _yours_." She waved. "See you around, boys!"

With that, she knelt down by the other two demons and plunged the blade into the earth. Almost instantly, the three of them seemingly vanished into thin air.

Slowly, Dean pivoted on a heel until he faced Shanti. The doctor stood a few feet away from them, with no real expression on her face. "Did you know it could do that?" he calmly asked.

"Yes. I did."

"And you let her walk away with it?" He gestured to Sam. "Do you have any idea how valuable something like that is to people like us? Especially now?" His voice grew angrier with each word. "I could've killed that crossroads bitch, maybe got out of this fucking mess!"

"And if it _didn't_ work?" Shanti asked, her tone the total opposite of Dean's – extremely calm. "As I told your brother, it was never a guarantee, only a _possibility_. In the material I've read, no human has ever managed to kill a crossroads demon. Other demons have been destroyed over the years, yes. Some with ... positive results, some without."

"You never know until you try!" he shot back. "Christ, woman, what is wrong with you?!"

"That blade offered you power no human should have, _especially_ one in your line of work," she shortly replied.

"We could've done a lot of good out there _with_ it. Saved a lot of innocent people! Whose goddamn side are you on?!"

"Dean -"

"No, Sam, I want her to actually answer this question," Dean cut in as he held up a hand to keep his brother back. He closed the space between him and Shanti, until there was barely half a foot between them. "Whose side _are_ you on?"

"The asura - demons - they possess innocent humans, do they not?"

"Yeah."

She waited. When it didn't dawn on him, the point she wanted to make, she sighed. "You destroy two lives with a knife like that – the asura and its host. You might not care about the asura, but don't you care about the human unwillingly harboring it?" She looked from him to Sam. "Would you have used it on him, when he was possessed?"

Dean glanced over his shoulder. "Are you serious? Hell no!"

"Yet here he is – alive and asura-free." An eyebrow lifted. "Why is that?"

"I cast the bitch out of him, that's why!"

"You found another way. If you can do it for him, why not show every other innocent human the same courtesy?" Her expression became less harsh. "I heard what she said to you, how it becomes a little easier each time you kill another person. With a weapon such as the Enochi blade, how long would it have been before it _wasn't_ difficult?"

Dean quickly averted his gaze. He'd never thought about it, not even when they'd had the working Colt. Every single time he fired that gun, he hadn't thought about anything except protecting what was important. To him.

She closely watched his reaction. "There is a reason it isn't easy to kill a demon. They take an innocent with them, someone who is probably unaware of this war of yours. Do you truly want that on your conscience? Your karma?" She shifted her attention to Sam. "Do _you_?"

"Innocent people die in wars," Dean said in a low voice. "It's a sad fact, but it's true."

"Destroying life, _any_ life, should never be easy. You might not believe in karma, but for every life you end? It weighs on your soul. And when the weight becomes unbearable, it pulls you into a place of darkness."

Dean glanced back to Sam, who only looked away. As he muttered something under his breath, Dean walked by Shanti and headed to the other side of the road, where Felton Howard waited. The poor man seemed more confused than ever now.

Shanti looked to Sam. "I would imagine you agree with him?"

"I understand your concern, but we wouldn't become what you're suggesting," he quietly replied. "We would've been responsible."

She closely studied him before she asked, "Have you any idea from where an Enochi blade is suspected to have originated?"

"No. You don't seem to trust either one of us enough to give out that kind of information."

"It's said there are only four blades in existence. Each belonged to a Messenger of God." She held up four fingers and bent one down to her palm as she listed names. "Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel. You recognize them?"

"The archangels."

"I'd never believed they actually existed until I saw the one Mr. Howard brought with him. The script on the blade's handle gave the name of its owner – Uriel." She shook her head. "Where this ... 'Meg' managed to obtain it, I don't know. However, it's less dangerous in _her_ hands."

"You wouldn't even trust me with it?" Sam asked as he gestured to himself.

"That sort of power shouldn't belong to anyone of this earth. I ... I'm sorry I lied about its importance, but I had to do it."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now, it's gone. Along with probably the only real chance Dean had." He paused before he added, "You were right, though, Doctor. I _did_ waste my time with you." He stated to walk to the other side of the road.

Shanti stared at the ground for a moment before she turned around. "Sam?"

After he stopped he looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"I_ can_ offer your brother a clean way out."

Sam glanced back to the trees. Both Dean and Felton must've already returned to the car, they were nowhere in sight. "Are you talking about what Felton did? Because he'd ne -" He stopped as she shook her head. "What is it?"

"Before, when I confronted the demon with Felton, I was prepared to fully free him from his own contract. I'd suspected she wouldn't accept my still being alive as a fulfillment of their ... agreement." She looked down at the words carved in Hindi on the slip of wood, a request for the protection of Durga. "Another way to free someone from his contract ..."

Sam took a few steps towards her, a look of confusion and curiosity on his face. "Is ... what?"

She raised her head. "If a third party willingly takes it on," she stated. "I'd attempted to do this for Felton, but it was too late. The window was closed at sunrise."

He waited a moment before he asked, "So ... what is it you're trying to tell me, exactly?"

Her arms fell to her sides as she stood a little straighter. "He can be free. Today. Right now, if you'd like. By me taking on his contract myself."

Sam stared at her, more than slightly stunned at what she'd just revealed to him. Was it that simple? Dean signs over his contract to her and ... there are no more worries? A clean slate. A second chance. It couldn't be so easy. She'd said there were no easy ways out.

"Are you su -"

"Very sure," she cut in. "I would only have the same amount of time left here on earth as he does, but ..."

"What about Leila? Don't you want to find a way to free her? You -"

She shifted her gaze to the ground. "I've been doing this for so very long. I've given over my entire life to it and it's been for nothing. If the answer hasn't presented itself by now, then, perhaps, it doesn't even exist." Her gaze lifted and focused on him. "At least this way I can save one person's soul. Not hers, but someone's."

Sam quickly glanced back to the trees. Dean was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a good thing right then. He looked down as he considered her words. This was it – the thing he'd searched for all of these weeks. The way out. But still ...

He shifted his attention to the doctor. He remembered the story she'd told him about her brother, about Leila, then he recalled the photograph of the three of them as young, happy children.

"No."

Shanti blinked, surprised. "W-what?"

"No. I can't let you do that."

Her brow furrowed, baffled by the response. "But ... why not?"

"I can't ask you to put yourself in Hell for him. It's not right, and it's not your responsibility, either. If anyone should do it, it should be me."

"You can't. You're a part of his deal, Sam. Therefore, you are not a third party." She approached him. "I can save his life. Isn't this what you came to me for?"

"I came to you for your help, not your soul."

"You needn't feel wrong about this -"

"It's not about me, or even Dean. You can't give up on your sister, Doctor. If _we_ were the cause of that? I'm sorry, I couldn't live with it on my conscience."

"I've told you, I'm not even sure -"

"That's right, you're not _sure_. You'd damn the both of you to Hell because you've given up hope? Is that what she would do? What about your brother? What would _he_ do?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Why should you care? You don't even know her."

"I don't have to know her, I _do_ know what it's like to want to save someone I care about from eternal damnation." He paused as he watched her wipe away her tears. "You have to keep searching. You just have to."

She stared at the muddy ground beneath her feet, her vision blurred by the tears.

"Hey!" Dean's voice caught the attention of both. He stood on the other side of the road, too far away to have heard them talking, with a look of 'what the hell's the hold up?' on his face.

Sam waved a hand at him then watched his brother disappear back into the trees. As he turned, he found Shanti just in front of him. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes," she quietly replied. After a glance across the road, she added, "We should leave, then." She took two steps before Sam spoke again.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell him what you told me. About the way out of the deal."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

"Just ... don't. Please?"

After a moment, she slowly nodded. "If it's what you want."

"Are you comin' or what?" Dean called out again, even more aggravated than before.

"Yes!" Sam yelled, slightly annoyed. He looked to Shanti again. "Thanks," he murmured, then headed across the road.

She, however, hesitated. Her gaze flicked from Dean to Sam, who walked towards him. After a moment, she followed.

-

End Chapter Thirteen


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

------------------------------

Two Days Later ...

-

Ellen hung up the phone and stared at the faded wallpaper before she looked to Sam. He was at the kitchen table, only one leather-bound text open in front of him, but he was thoroughly engrossed in it. After a moment, she sat down at the table, directly across from him.

"That was Bobby."

"What'd he want?"

She let out a breath then leaned back in her chair. "Oh, he has a new job up in Illinois he could use your help with. Wanted to know how things turned out with Shanti, too. Said I'd leave the story up to you." She nodded to the book in front of him. "You've been totin' that around for the past two days. What is it?"

Using a finger as a bookmark, he closed the text so she could see the front. "English translation of some of the Vedas. Dr. Patil loaned it to me."

"Any particular reason?"

"I asked her for it." He opened it again.

"What do you think you'll find?"

"Something to help us? I don't know."

"Thought John decided nothin' about it _was_ useful?"

"I thought I believed in _something_ - maybe it's God, maybe it's not." He looked to her. "But I saw demons repelled by a simple line in the mud. What kind of power can do that? And maybe it can do the same for us." He thumbed through the pages he'd yet to read. "Maybe Dad just didn't look at this close enough."

Ellen nodded. "Where is Shanti, anyway?" she asked after a few moments.

"Outside." He turned the page then glanced at her. "She's been meditating a lot since we came back from Peculiar."

"We all look for answers in our own ways. She meditates." She gestured to the book. "You research. Dean -"

"Just doesn't care," Sam muttered as he frowned.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I was going to say 'he tinkers around with old cars', but you know him better than I do." She raised an eyebrow when he looked at her. When he went back to the book, she continued. "What're you gonna do next?"

He shrugged. "Guess we'll go to Illinois and find out what Bobby needs."

"I meant in a grander scheme of things."

Another shrug. "Keep looking for an answer, do whatever we can to help other people in-between. Ten months and three weeks isn't a lot of time, though." He paused before he met her gaze. "Do you think everything happens for a specific reason?"

Ellen sat forward. "What brought that on?"

He thought back to the crossroads, the discussion he'd had with Dean about the 'coincidences' they'd experienced prior to the yellow-eyed demon kidnapping him. Was there a reason they'd met the crossroads demon at that point? They'd not dealt with one ever before but then one's suddenly part of a job.

'What if you were meant to come back?'

'If that's true ... ' he heard his own voice reply. 'Then for what purpose?'

Ellen could tell something bothered him about the question. He couldn't hide it as well as Dean. "I think things just happen, Sam," she finally said, gaining his attention. "Then_ we_ find the reasons for'em." Sam's gaze fell on the text, an indecipherable expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

He saw the concern she wore on her own. "It's nothing. Really," he assured her.

She eyed him before she decided to leave it alone, then stood up.

Once she was gone, his gaze wandered away from the book to the open window near the back of the kitchen. From there, he could see the old pick-up Ellen had given to Shanti. The hood was propped up and Dean, his back to the house, was leaned over the engine.

-

As Shanti rounded the back corner of the old farmhouse, she could hear the sounds of tools against metal before she even saw Dean himself. He was leaned over the truck's engine, one arm lost somewhere within it, as he muttered a curse under his breath. Once he'd finished what he was doing, he stood straight and withdrew his arm at the same time. It was then he noticed her.

He didn't say a word, only went to the open driver's side door, reached inside and turned the key. Without any trouble, the engine turned over and ran even smoother than it previously had. Slight smug smile on his face, he turned it off.

"It sounds much better than before," Shanti commented as she came to a stop on the other side of the door.

Dean only glanced at her as he used a rag wipe away the muck from his hands.

She bowed her head as he slammed the door and went around her to the front end of the vehicle. "Your brother said your father did this. Worked in a garage." She watched him let the hood fall shut with a thump. "Would you've done the same sort of work, if things had gone differently in your lives?"

He shrugged. "They didn't," he shortly replied. "Why do you care, anyway?" He continued to clean away the grease as he walked to where the tools he'd used lay on the ground.

Locking her hands together behind her back, she followed. "This isn't particularly easy for me to say -"

Dean stood straight and looked back to her, almost amused. "Whoa! Something's not easy for _you_ to say? I'd better prepare myself then. What could be worse than the other shit you've already said? Unless it's to tell me one of the tortures waiting in Hell is Electric Light Orchestra on endless repeat."

"No. But you are close to what it _is_ about."

He fully turned, a guarded curiosity about him. "How's that?"

"I asked you before – if you had a way out of your deal, would you take it?"

He nodded. "And I told you there was no way out, so why wonder?" Before she could respond, he quickly added, "I am _not_ giving Sam back. You can forget it, if that's what you've got in mind."

She shook her head. "There's another way."

He turned around again, very slowly. "What d'you mean?"

She motioned to herself. "If I willingly take on your contract, you'll be free."

He stared at her, like she'd spoken to him in a foreign language. "Take on my contract?" he said, his brow furrowed. "How can you do that?"

"We go to the nearest crossroads, I summon the demon and offer my soul in trade for yours. Quite simple, really."

His eyes narrowed. "And what happens to Sam?"

"Absolutely nothing," she assured him. "The both of you live for as long as you're allowed. She has no hold over either of you."

Cautiously, he approached her. "You're tellin' me you'd do that? After all of the shit you put me through for makin' the deal in the first place?" After she nodded, he raised an eyebrow. "This is some kind of test, isn't it?" He smiled a little. "Yeah, that's it! If I say 'yes', you'll give me another of those 'you're so selfish' speeches." He chuckled as he wagged a finger at her. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"It's no test," she insisted. She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "I am ready to do this for you."

He looked from her hand on his arm to her. "Oh, yeah? If you're so ready, why don't you just do it? Why even ask me?"

"I need your ... permission to do so. Just as I willingly accept the contract, you must willingly give it over," she explained. She saw the suspicion still in his eyes. "This is one of the few resolutions, that I'm aware of, which will save you."

Dean studied her. She seemed serious, but why would she? She hardly even knew him. He was pretty damn sure she didn't even _like_ him. There had to be some other reason. Something in it for her. "Sam told me about your sister. If you do this, that means you're done trying to help her. Right?" She nodded. "Why?"

"This way, at the very least, she won't be alone there," she quietly answered as she looked away. "I ... I haven't been terribly kind to you -"

He snorted. "That's an understatement."

She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "Over the past two days, I've come to realize it wasn't _you_ I was angry with." She sadly sighed. "You _are_ a lot like her. I'd displaced my aggravation with her onto you, since she isn't here for me to ... "

"Bitch at?" he suggested.

Her mouth quirked. "Not the words I'd have chosen, but, yes."

"And now you want to go to Hell for me?"

"Perhaps, if I do this, you'll reflect on your second chance. Or your fourth, if we're going to keep a correct count."

"Reflect? On what?"

"A different path, maybe. I can't imagine how awful it must be to live day-to-day without any sort of faith."

He rolled his eyes as he walked to the other side of the truck. "Oh, great. Here we go again - the 'God Talk'." He picked up the tools and tossed them into the metal toolbox. "Sam and I have had this chat more than once in past few months. It goes nowhere, fast. I sure as hell ain't havin' it with you."

"I don't necessarily mean faith in _God_," she said as she stopped beside him. "Do you believe in any other person, besides your brother?" He only ignored her and continued to put away the tools. "Do you even believe in yourself?"

He muttered something as he forced a laugh.

"In the short time I've known you, it's obvious you've no sense of self-worth. Oddly, however, you think you're the only one who can sort things out. If it's not your solution, it can't be trusted." Her eyes narrowed on him. "You bugger everything around you because of it as well."

"Really?" Dean threw the last wrench into the box then rose to his feet so fast, Shanti took a step back. "How about I lay some psychoanalysis on _you_, Doc? For the past week, you've been goin' on and on about how selfishness is the 'true evil'. You're pissed off at your sister, so you take it out on me. You tell us about how we're so afraid, self-centered and covered in bad karma -"

"You haven't any -"

He pointed a finger in her face, cutting her off. "I have the floor," he growled. "You give _us_ all of this crap but look at_ you_. Didn't find a way to help your sister, yet you discovered ways to help _other_ people. Did you put it to use? No. You don't like the way Sam and I do our job, so you refuse to help us in any way. Fine. I get that. But what the hell did Felton Howard, or anyone else like him, ever do except make a mistake?"

She averted her gaze from him.

"If it'd been your sister knockin' on the door instead of me, would you've helped her? She made the same choice. You never would've slammed the door in _her_ face, though. Why? You're just like the rest of us – out for yourself. Doin' what's good for you and yours. To hell with everyone else. _Literally_."

"Leila is not the issue here -"

"Yes, she _is_," he snapped. "Everything you've done up till now has been because of her. We're alike in that way." He paused. "If this had ended that night in the cemetery? I'd have given this shit up. You think I _enjoy_ meeting people who've recently lost someone? It's a ton of fun to watch innocent ones die, knowin' there was nothin' I could do? I don't want what resembles normal for one day? This job sucks, every hunter'll tell you the same. We all can't go hide in the woods, though. Somebody has to man up. And since you're quiet for once, lemme answer your question – no. I don't want you to take on my contract."

She tried to hide her surprise at his reply but failed. "This could be your only way out."

"Could be, couldn't be." He shrugged. "I don't friggin' know. What I_ do_ know is I'm not draggin' anyone else into this." His features relaxed and softened just a bit. "Besides," he continued, more quietly. "If Sam found out, he'd go through the goddamn roof. I'd never hear the end of it. Between his lectures and fire and brimstone? I'll take the fire and brimstone. Less of a pain in my ass."

"It would seem I've misjudged you," Shanti finally replied after several moments of silence. "You're not quite as ignorant as I previously thought."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'll assume that's a sideways compliment and leave it at that."

A very faint smile appeared on her face then she turned to leave.

"Hey, Doc?"

She looked over her shoulder. "Yes?"

He toyed with the oil-covered rag. "You find a way to spring your sister, you'll let Sam know?" He waited then looked to her. "It's not bein' alive, but I'd rather not spend eternity in Hell with that bitch, if it can be avoided."

"I will."

"Thanks."

"Dean?"

He flicked his gaze back to her. "Yeah?"

"It's actually Yoko Ono, not Electric Light Orchestra." She smiled then walked away.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor!" he called out. When she didn't respond, he added, a bit concerned, "You _are_ kidding ... right?"

-

Shanti closed the door to Jo's bedroom and placed her duffel bag on the floor. She smiled at Ellen who stood in the hallway, just in front of her.

"You sure you want to leave?" Ellen asked. She gestured to the house. "Big place. Hardly have any visitors. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. Be nice to have the company."

"As lovely as the offer is, Ellen, I'll have to pass," she replied. "However, I won't rule out an eventual return. If you haven't a problem with it?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. Maybe I'll be able to introduce you to Jo next time."

"I'd like to meet her. She must be an impressive young woman."

"I did the best I could."

The doctor smiled a little more. "Well," she sighed as she held out a hand. "This is goodbye, then."

Instead of taking her hand, Ellen put her arms around the other woman and gave her a hug. After an uneasy moment, Shanti returned it. "You take care of yourself." As she let go, Ellen stepped back. "Remember, you always have a friend here, if you need anything."

She nodded. "Had this not happened, I would've never met you. I'm rather glad I did."

Ellen patted her shoulder then smiled. She glanced down the hall at the open front door. "Boys are out front, if you wanna say anything to them before you go."

Her gaze lowered and settled on the two brightly-colored bracelets she wore. She looked back to Ellen. "Yes, actually, I would."

-

" ... well, I don't know, Sam. We'll find out when we get there," Dean was saying as the screen door creaked open and Shanti, duffel bag in tow, appeared on the porch.

Both of them turned. Sam rose to his feet and Dean pushed himself away from the post he'd leaned against.

"You're leaving?" Sam asked as he glanced from the bag to her.

"I probably should've left earlier in the day ..." Her gaze shifted to Dean. "But I had something which needed sorted." She focused on Sam again. "At any rate, I thought I'd say farewell."

"You don't have to go." Sam motioned to the house. "I'm sure Ellen'd let you stay here until you're back on your feet -"

"No," she cut in. "I've overstayed my welcome. And I shouldn't come across any trouble I won't be able to handle."

"Where you goin' _to_, exactly?" Dean inquired.

"Oh ..." She gazed out at the horizon a moment before she looked to them again. "A professor at a university in Colorado asked me for my help not long after I first arrived here," she replied. "Thought I might extend my expertise to him and his cause. Faustian scholar, he is, you know."

Sam glanced at Dean. "You're going to try to help other people?"

"Those who are willing to do what is necessary, yes."

"If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind?"

She shifted her gaze to Dean. "'Be the change you want to see in the world'," she answered.

Dean looked to Sam. Apparently, the fortune cookie response made some kind of sense to him. He leaned closer to his brother and murmured, "What the hell's _that_ mean?"

"It's Gandhi," Sam replied. "It means to affect change by example. Hope others follow in your footsteps." Suddenly, he remembered something. "Since you're leaving, I should return your book to you." He made it to where she stood when she stopped him.

"I'd like you to keep it, Sam," she said when he looked down at her, puzzled. "You may find something within it which might help _you_." She glanced down at her bracelets. "Also, I have something else I would like to give to you."

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned his back on them. "I should've seen this comin'," he grumbled. "God, just let it be quick."

"Dean?"

He hesitated before he cautiously looked over his shoulder. The doctor beckoned him forward with a finger. Confused, he joined her and Sam on the porch. He watched as she finished trying one of the bracelets around Sam's wrist. When she motioned for him to extend his arm, he looked to her. "What's this?" he asked as she placed it around his wrist. "Some of your Hindu voodoo?"

She gave him a unamused look. "No, it's a rakhi bracelet," she explained. She finished the knot then focused on Dean. "It's not related to the otherworld. It's common practice for girls and women to give them to their brothers, or those whom they consider as such."

Sam looked at the one around his wrist then to Dean, who seemed more surprised than anything.

"By accepting them, you've pledged yourselves to help me should I ever need it." She noticed the expression on Dean's face. "Don't worry, I won't hold you to that end." She paused as her own expression turned more somber. "These are the ones Leila and I gave to Anil."

"We couldn't take these -" Sam started as he moved to return it to her. He stopped when she placed a hand on his arm.

"Please. He wouldn't mind." Her hand slipped away. "It's ... the only way I'm able express my gratitude. To you both. No matter what that asura may believe, there _is_ a purpose behind what happened. I've realized it's selfish to focus only on Leila when others could use my help. Until the events of the past week, I'd never considered it in such a manner."

"Maybe you're on the right path," Sam suggested. "Maybe you'll find a way to save Leila's soul."

"Perhaps." She moved to grab her duffel but looked back to them. "I'm certain you won't pay any mind to it, but could I ask something of you?"

"Already?" Dean raised his wrist with the bracelet. "We haven't even had these five minutes."

"It isn't for me, it's for you. And those like you," she replied. "If you'd consider the beings you ... hunt a bit more, you may discover things you never thought possible."

"We'll keep it in mind," Sam assured her when he saw the blank look on Dean's face.

She nodded, satisfied with the response. It was something, anyway. She picked up her duffel then used both hands to swing it over a shoulder. "May God guide you both." With that, she headed for the pick-up, which was parked not far from the Impala.

"We're still right where we were a week ago," Dean commented as the truck pulled away. He looked to Sam. "Maybe you'll realize how pointless this is. Not even the expert could save me." He turned to go back into the house.

"_Couldn't_ she?"

He stopped and pivoted on a heel to face Sam. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"She offered to take on your contract." He watched Dean feign confusion very well in response. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know she told you."

"And how would you know?"

"The kitchen window was wide open. I heard everything."

Dean eyed him. "You knew before then, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded. "She'd mentioned it at the crossroads. She offered to do it that day."

He came closer. "You never said a word to me. Why was that?"

Sam shrugged as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets then looked away from Dean. "I don't know," he muttered.

"You thought I'd actually _do_ that?" he incredulously asked. His eyes widened when Sam didn't deny it. "_Did_ you?"

"You're desperate," he finally replied with a sigh. He dared to look him in the eye. "I didn't want you to make another stupid mistake because of it."

"I can't believe my own _brother_ thinks that goddamn low of me," he said, shaking his head in utter wonder. "I'd put someone else in Hell, just to save my own ass." He scoffed then started for the front door.

"I'm sorry!" he called out as Dean put a hand on the screen door. "All right? I'm sorry."

His hand tightly gripped the handle before he finally flicked his gaze to Sam. "Get your stuff together," he quietly said. "It's a long drive to Chicago." He threw open the door and entered the house.

Sam flinched as the screen clanked shut behind him.

-

The car's radio softly played as the Impala headed down the darkening two lane highway. They'd just left Nebraska. In a few hours, they'd meet with Bobby in Chicago, for whatever job had him so hard up for help, he'd called on them.

Dean glanced away from the road over to Sam. They hadn't said much to each other since Ellen's. Partly because Sam was tied up in a book the doctor had given him. Sooner or later, he'd get over Sam keeping the one way out of his contract a secret from him. He couldn't totally fault Sam for his assumption. For a second there, he'd considered saying 'yes'.

After he turned up the volume on the radio, he concentrated on the road ahead of him.

"Listen, young people, I'm 74  
And I plan to live 60 or 70 more  
I've been all around, I've done a few things  
And I spent a few nights on the floor, oh ..."

Sam rubbed his eyes with his fingers as he lifted his head. He'd almost finished the volume. While most of the stories were interesting in several ways, none of them offered any help to him. Or Dean. He wondered what the doctor thought he'd find, and why couldn't she just _tell_ him?

The book slipped forward and nearly fell to the floor. As he caught it, he saw a folded piece of paper slide from the back pages and land between his shoes. Casually, Sam grabbed the paper then held up one side of the book, to hide what he was doing from Dean.

Carefully, he unfolded it and raised an eyebrow. The note was addressed to him. From Shanti. After another quick glance at his brother, he read the words:

_As I told you before, many of the solutions I could give you will not help. It is simply too late for your brother. You would not accept my offer, and I do understand why you refused. However, there is one last chance for him to save his soul from an eternity in Hell._

Sam looked to Dean, and Dean noticed him staring.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," he murmured then focused on the note.

Dean looked down at the book. "Dunno what you think you're gonna get out of that," he said, shaking his head.

"You never know." When Dean shifted his attention back to the road, Sam continued to read:

_The last solution I am able to offer is this: self-sacrifice. As with all contracts, selfishness is the basis. Selflessness is an opportunity for redemption. Should he give his life in the act of saving another, for no selfish reasons, upon his death, the contract is void. Unfortunately, he won't be alive but his soul will move forward._

Sam blinked. Self-sacrifice? He shifted his gaze to Dean again. Before Dean could see him watching him, Sam read the final paragraph:

_I wondered if I should even reveal this last bit. If you wish to tell your brother, I'll leave to you. Only one man, supposedly, managed to escape his contract - as well as his death - this way. I won't tell you it's impossible, yet you shouldn't expect it to be his outcome. Do have faith. In the vastness of the Universe, there is always someone with more power than any evil forces._

Sam lifted his head, stunned, as he looked out of the open passenger's side window. A slim chance, but it was a chance. A little hope was better than none. Still, as she'd written, there was no guarantee Dean would be completely freed, like the other man. Dean took enough chances with his life _now_. For him to have it in the back of his mind that dying to save someone else could not only spare him from Hell, but maybe cancel the contract on the whole?

He stared at the paper for almost a full minute. Then used a hand to crumple it into a ball.

"What's that?"

Dean's voice jerked Sam out of his thoughts. "What's what?"

He gestured to the Sam's hand which held the paper ball. "_That_. What is it?"

"Learned a few tricks and I'll learn a few more  
And I got enough bullets to fight a small war ..."

Quickly, Sam tossed it out of the window. "Just useless junk I found in the back of the book. Notes or something the doctor jotted down, I guess," he casually replied. "It wasn't important."

"Nobody asked me so here's my advice  
To a young man or woman who's living this life  
In a world gone to hell where nobody's safe  
Do not go quietly unto your grave ..."

"Better not be any cops around," Dean said after a lengthy pause. "Last thing we need is to get pulled over for you litterin', then thrown into jail when they figure out who we are."

Sam rolled his eyes. "No one saw."

"You _hope_ no one did," Dean said as he shook his head.

What neither one of _them_ saw was the ball of paper be blown inside the car via the open back window. After which, the heavily moving breeze knocked it off of the backseat, and rolled it on the floor until it finally settled underneath Dean's.

-

The End.

-

Author's Notes: I stupidly forgot to credit the songs/artists I've used in this story. So! Stevie Wonder's "Superstition", The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For the Devil", "I'll Fly Away" (original lyrics by Albert E. Brumley) and Morphine's "Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave" were all used without permission. Don't sue me, kthx?


End file.
